


And I Never Thought I'd Ever Say Forever

by suchfun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - TiMER, Asexual Laura Hale, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fuckbuddies, Microscopic Derek/Braeden, Multi, No Kate Argent or Malia Tate, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchfun/pseuds/suchfun
Summary: "That was stupid." He bats the kid's hands away and rearranges the items in the bag. He's mixed canned goods and dairy, does this kid even know how to efficiently pack a bag? "The TiMER is a gift." He says it automatically, because that's what his mom says. That's how he was brought up. That's what he's supposed to think. He used to believe it, back when he was sixteen and idealistic, before he actually got his TiMER, back when he was so sure that his soulmate would be Paige. Back when he believed in the romcoms, in his mom's books, in the elaborate advertisements for TiMERs—the ones with all the interviews with loving real life couples, with testimonials to their effectiveness and their ability to make you happy and fulfilled, with guarantees of an improved quality of life and even life expectancy. Back when he thought meeting his soulmate was an inevitability, not a slim possibility.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the indie romcom called TiMER. It's a cute film, so of course I had to Sterek it.
> 
> I've been working on this for so long now, I feel like I need to thank everyone I've ever spoken to during this time just for putting up with me. As it is, my bulk of gratitude goes to the two people who helped me most in the finishing and editing of this fic: [Hosio](http://hosio.tumblr.com), my incredible artist, and [tackygoldring](http://tackygoldring.tumblr.com), my magical beta.
> 
> Hosio, I am beyond grateful you chose my fic! Your art is perfection, and every time I thought it couldn't get better, it did. You were such a support to me, even when we did get distracted and carried away with other things. Thank you for everything! (Rebloggable art post located [here](http://hosio.tumblr.com/post/152303078033/this-years-sterek-big-bang-i-did-with-the)!)
> 
> Tacky, you somehow managed to make sense of the stupid draft I sent you, and you made everything a hundred times better. You're gentleperson and a scholar!
> 
> Written for this year's [Sterek Big Bang](http://sterek-big-bang.livejournal.com)! Title is from Gimmie Love by Carly Rae Jepsen.
> 
> (PS. When I was posting this ao3 was giving me formatting issues, sticking random gaps in places. Hopefully that's fixed now!)

When Cora turns eighteen, she finally gets her TiMER.

It's always a huge event, the TiMER ceremony, and this time is no different—there's a party Cora doesn't want, cousins Cora hasn't seen in years, alcohol Cora can't even have yet, and Derek's pretty sure that the only person who's probably hating this more than him is Cora herself.

"Do I have to?" Cora asks, for the nth time, but it's pointless. Their mom is a traditionalist. Every member of the family has a TiMER, and anyone they know who doesn't is either 'gently encouraged' or 'gently ostracised'. He doesn't really understand his mom's _obsession_ with the TiMER, but it's… Derek can admit there are pros and cons to knowing the exact moment you're going to meet your soulmate, to having that exact time count down on a digital strip on your wrist for all the world to see. It's just that even having a TiMER doesn't guarantee anything, for some people. For some people, the pressure of it only makes things worse.

He looks up to find Laura watching him concernedly over Cora's head, and realises he's playing with his own wrist, stroking his fingers over the display of his own TiMER. It reads ----d --h --m --s. It hasn't changed since it was first installed on his own eighteenth birthday ten years ago, no matter how many mornings he wakes up to check it, heart in his throat, thinking _maybe today_.

Laura raises an eyebrow, and he raises one right back.

Their mom is oblivious to everything that isn't her baby girl finally becoming a woman. ("Ugh," Cora had said, disgusted, after hearing their mom's speech for the first time, when Laura got her TiMER. "Like my life only means something once I get paired with someone, what a load of shit." Even at seven years old she'd had Opinions.) "Okay people, settle down, the moment of truth is here," she announces, gathering everyone around the couch, sitting down next to Cora and pulling out a TiMER box. "Ready, sweetie? This is the moment that will change your life."

"Yay," Cora drawls.

Their mom ignores her. She opens the box, slips out the TiMER, discards the instructions because they're unnecessary—Derek and Laura worked out last night that this is their mom's seventh time doing this for various family members—and grabs Cora's left wrist.

"Any last words?" Laura asks dryly. She's somewhere behind the couch now, as far away as possible.

"Just do it," Cora grits out.

Their mom places the applicator over her wrist and presses a button. The TiMER attaches itself to Cora's skin, the small, thin panel deceptively unassuming on her slender wrist. The TiMER attaches itself to Cora's skin. Cora flinches, the digital numbers flash on the interface of the watch, ----d --h --m --s, and Derek holds his breath. Because maybe, maybe the numbers won't change, maybe he won't be alone in this, won't be the only one who—

The numbers change.

0006d 20h 33m 7s.

Cora will meet her soulmate in six days, twenty hours, thirty three minutes and seven seconds.

" _A week?!_ " Cora screeches. " _What the fuck?!_ "

Their mom starts crying.

It's the happiest Derek has seen her in a long time.

+

Derek is hiding out in the kitchen with Laura when Cora finally reappears. She's been paraded around the party for the past two hours, forced to be civil, and as soon as she stomps in she growls, "Fuck this noise," snatches Laura's cider and downs it and Derek's beer. "Guess if I wanna have that threesome with the captain of the lacrosse team and his girlfriend I better do it quick," she mutters. 

Laura snorts and Cora looks up, like she's just noticed their presence. Derek wonders if she feels relieved or guilty that she got such a normal TiMER reading, compared to her defective siblings. It's probably not the latter—Cora's pretty self-absorbed when she feels hard done by. She won't be thinking much about how this affects anyone else.

The very next thing she does proves that very point. "Hey Derek, you're desperate for a reading, wanna swap with me?" she asks obnoxiously, extending her wrist out to him. On any other day he'd indulge her, play along, but he can't right now. Not this time.

"I wouldn't do that to you," he murmurs. She frowns and pulls her arm back but Derek's just staring at her TiMER as it counts down, flashing 0006d 18h 47m 11s, 0006d 18h 47m 10s, 0006d 18h 47m 09s. He can feel his skin getting hot, can feel his mouth going dry, can feel his sisters' eyes on him, and it's just not—

This is Cora's special day. It's about her, no matter how much she doesn't want it. He's ruining it.

"We should go," Laura says abruptly, because she's always been able to read him so easily, to help him without being obvious about it. She plants a kiss on Cora's forehead, who's looking more and more pissed off.

"Fuck you guys—" she starts, but Laura just sweeps past her, grabbing Derek's bicep and pulling him after her. They navigate easily through the crowd, Laura quickly and effectively yet politely shutting down anyone's attempts to talk to them.

Derek really loves her a lot.

The only person she stops to say anything to is their mom, who's apparently been eluded by Cora for the past twenty minutes and is kind of freaking out with the need to introduce her to some second cousin twice removed from Iowa.

"Check the kitchen," Laura says cheerfully. "Last time I saw her she was waving goodbye with a bottle of Jack."

Mom narrows her eyes and, pasting on a grin, and nods to Derek and Laura before dragging the unfortunate cousin in the direction of the kitchen.

"Now now now! Before she realises what we're doing, go go go," Laura hisses, shoving at Derek's shoulders. He pushes open the heavy double doors and practically falls out of the house, Laura pulling them shut again behind them and letting out a loud sigh of relief.

"Cora's gonna eviscerate you," Derek points out. He takes a deep breath, letting air fill his lungs till they burn, pushing it out again slowly before turning to Laura.

She shrugs. "I'm cool with that. Didn't you know, life's not worth living until you've got your soulmate, and I'll be half-dead by the time I find mine anyway."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Drama queen," he says, but loops his arm around her shoulders anyway, directing her to where he was forced to park the Camaro three blocks away, because his mom's parties are always fucking huge.

They're silent for a while. 

"It's you and me as always, little bro," Laura says, reaching up to squeeze his fingers. 

"Right," he says.

She means it as a good thing. Derek wonders if it is.

+

"I'm sorry about yesterday," says Derek to Cora's voicemail. He hates voicemail, but he hates speaking on the phone even more, and Cora has a terrible habit of pretending like she's never received certain texts. "Come over later. Except if tonight's your last-minute orgy, then just ignore this message. I'll wrack myself with guilt with Laura instead."

Then he hangs up and calls right back to leave a second message.

"That's what she said."

+

He gets the ever-familiar 'what a poor boy' look from a little old lady in the grocery store. He's reaching for a melon, because Cora likes cake for dessert but Laura prefers fruit salad, when he hears a quiet tsking sound. He looks up to see a tiny woman, more wrinkles than anything, standing far too close to him and eyeing his TiMER. He drops the melon and pulls down his sleeves, trying not to glare at her, because while most people respect TiMER etiquette, ninety five percent of the time it's the elderly who seem to think they're free to make comments about his relationship status.

"It'll all work out," she rasps, patting his elbow. He grits his teeth. "Your soulmate is right around the corner, you'll see. They're waiting for you, too. You just need to be patient. Can't see a handsome man like you going single for long."

"Right. Thanks." Derek finds a way to wrench away from her without hurting her, because while he wants to hurt _something_ he'd rather it not be another human being. The only reason he ends up not abandoning his basket and storming out of the shop in a huff is because Cora sends him a text reminding him to buy chocolate sauce. Even still, it's a near thing—the self-checkouts are all out of order, and there's only one person on the registers at this time of the evening, and he's serving the slowest man in the world to ever place his items on a conveyor belt.

Derek waits impatiently, tense, on full alert in case the old lady comes back. He barely stops himself from flinching when she turns a corner, passing him to move into the cereal aisle, but she doesn't even acknowledge him.

He's such a coward.

"Ethel got you, huh?" someone says, and Derek turns to see the cashier looking at him sympathetically.

"What?" Derek says sharply. He's an attractive young guy, maybe twenty years old, moles and cheekbones deluxe, and he nods towards Derek's TiMER.

"She has no tact, everything's fair game. I pretty much got mine installed just to get her off my back." He waves his TiMER arm in the air between scanning Derek's milk and his eggs, dumping the milk too heavily into Derek's reusable grocery bag and nearly dropping the eggs. Derek tries not to get too aggravated.

"That was stupid." He bats the kid's hands away and rearranges the items in the bag. He's mixed canned goods and dairy, does this kid even know how to efficiently pack a bag? "The TiMER is a gift." He says it automatically, because that's what his mom says. That's how he was brought up. That's what he's supposed to think. He used to believe it, back when he was sixteen and idealistic, before he actually got his TiMER, back when he was so _sure_ that his soulmate would be Paige. Back when he believed in the romcoms, in his mom's books, in the elaborate advertisements for TiMERs—the ones with all the interviews with loving real life couples, with testimonials to their effectiveness and their ability to make you happy and fulfilled, with guarantees of an improved quality of life and even life expectancy. Back when he thought meeting his soulmate was an inevitability, not a slim possibility.

The kid snorts. "You don't actually believe that do you?"

"If you hate it so much, then why did you even bother?" Derek shoots back, because all he wanted was to buy his damn groceries and it turns out this kid is even _worse_ than Ethel. "What was the point?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes it's easier to conform. Also, that'll be sixty seven dollars and thirty one cents."

+

No-one can really decide who has it worse out of Derek and Laura. Every time they meet up with Erica and Boyd, happily married and Timed Out for the past two and a half years, and Isaac and Parrish, both due to meet their soulmates within the next six months, they try to take a vote but it inevitably ends up tied.

"Laura will be menopausal by the time she meets hers," Erica points out. She sprawls out on Derek's armchair like she owns it, and since she's the only one who ever sits on it she pretty much does. "Derek's TiMER could come online at any time."

"Or it might not," Isaac says. He rolls his wine glass around in his hands, considering. "His soulmate might never get a TiMER, he might never meet them and they both might spend the rest of their lives depressed and alone." 

Cora nods. "Don't forget his soulmate could be dead," she offers up, saying for the first time what none of them have ever dared to say to him before. She's being particularly malicious tonight, but Derek's seen the way she's been staring down at her TiMER when no one's looking, the way she rubs anxiously at her wrist, so he's been cutting her a lot of slack. Too much, apparently.

The room goes quiet, and they all turn to him warily, Laura edging closer on the couch so their thighs touch.

Derek just looks steadily at Cora. "Fuck you," he says. He grabs his jacket and leaves the room, strides to the front door of his own apartment and starts hurriedly trying to shove his feet into his boots.

"I wish you guys wouldn't do that," he hears Jordan say.

"Why the hell does he get so upset about it every time?" Cora asks loudly. "It's not like it's shocking anymore, it's been like ten years. Why should we still have to walk on eggshells around him?"

Derek pauses in the middle of tying up his laces, waiting to see if—

"Stop being such a bitch, Cora," Laura snaps. "He invited you here, he made your favourite dessert, he tried to do the right thing. Get your head out of your fucking ass for five seconds and see things from another perspective for once or fuck off."

Silence.

Derek feels a surge of warmth for his older sister but it doesn't really change anything. He can't go back in there, not tonight. He finishes with his shoes, drags on his coat, and heads for the closest bar.

+

Her name's Braeden. She doesn't have a TiMER. She's beautiful and powerful and mysterious, and it's exhilarating.

"I make my own future," she says coolly, flipping her empty shot glass around her fingers. "I'm not interested in living like everything is inevitable. Even if it is, I don't wanna be reminded of that every time I so much as breathe." She considers him carefully, leaning back on her stool, like she owns not only the bar but everyone in it, too. "Doesn't jerking off just feel really depressing?"

Derek snorts. He's not sure if she's trying to shock him, but his sisters are Laura and Cora. That's pretty much impossible. "I can choose which hand to use," he tells her, shrugging. "I'm pretty ambidextrous."

Her eyes spark with interest, and she slowly looks down his body, then back up again, leaning closer so their knees brush together. "Is that so? That kind of dexterity might come in… handy."

She grins, more predator than anything else. He can't help but feel like he's in over his head. It's fantastic.

"Meet me here in half an hour," she says, typing something into his phone and handing it back to him before he even realises she'd taken it. "I won't wait for you if you're late."

+

"Back again?" the cute-but-incompetent cashier says, surprised, and Derek curses. He'd hoped for a shift change at the grocery store in the last four hours but he should know he's never that lucky. "I thought I'd driven you away."

"You did," Derek says. He tosses the condoms on the checkout counter, feigning nonchalance. He should have bought something else to pad out his purchase, but he's not exactly thinking much further than Braeden. "I'm desperate."

"Obviously not," he says, waving the box around before turning it to read the label, like he and Derek are friends or something.

"Hey, I'm on a schedule," Derek barks. He doesn't have his car with him because he walked to the bar, and if the kid doesn't hurry up he's not going to have time to flag a cab or order an Uber, going to have to run the thirteen blocks to Braeden's location, and he doesn't think she'd be that impressed if he turned up dirty and sweaty right off the bat. She doesn't seem like the type of person who would offer up her shower.

"Sounds super romantic, man, congrats," he says, and then shakes the box again, looking up at Derek. "Are you sure you wanna stick with these though? My buddy Scott tried them like a few months ago and it was absolutely not awesome, he still gets nightmares about it."

To be fair, Derek hadn't really checked the label properly, just grabbed the first pack in his usual brand. Now that he's snatched the box back to check it does sound vaguely ominous, promising 'an intense tingling sensation' that just doesn't sound all that appealing.

"Swap them out," the kid says. "Trust me." He hands them back, his TiMER flashing under the overly bright fluorescents, 0136d something something something, but then Derek's grabbing the box, glancing at the time on his phone, and swearing as he bolts back to the condom aisle.

Once he's chosen, triple checking that they're the standard variety, he gets back to the cash register to find that there's finally someone else on shift.

Which is a good thing, obviously. The last thing he needs is some kid judging his pre-sex performance.

+

Braeden kicks him out at 6.46am the next day.

"Same time, same place next week," she says, leaning against the open front door, watching Derek fumble around on the sidewalk as he tries to find the right armhole of his jacket. "Assuming neither of us has found something better to do."

"I'll probably be free," Derek tells her, playing it cool when really they both know he'd make time for her. He finally gets the jacket on and he zips it up to the neck because it's unreasonably cool. How Braeden looks comfortable clad only in ankle socks and a huge ratty Led Zep t-shirt, he is incapable of understanding.

She rolls her eyes. "I wasn't really talking about you, but I'll let you know either way." She moves to shut the door. 

Derek panics a little, slaps a hand to the cool wood to stop it closing. "But I don't have your number."

"Yes you do." She eases his hand away and disappears, the door slamming behind her. There's the sound of the chain sliding home, and what seems like three additional locks being set after it, and Derek turns to the street. He pulls up his collar, sticks his hands in his pockets and starts walking home.

+

There's a note from Cora on his coffee table.

_I did your dishes. Buy a fucking dishwasher._

It's practically a grovelling apology, from her. Derek smirks and texts her a picture of one of the 'clean' glasses with Erica's lipstick stain still on the rim.

Cora sends back an emoji of a smiling turd.

+

Derek ends up back at the grocery store a couple days later. Cora is with him. There's less than two days until she Times Out and she's pretending not to freak out, pretending she doesn't want anything more than to just pry the TiMER off her arm with a crowbar, stay at home by herself in bed and not talk to anyone for the next week. She's on the phone with their mom, because apparently Cora needs to be called twice a day and reminded how to live her life, and the longer their mom talks, the more junk food Cora piles into the shopping cart.

The kid is working again—does he live at this store or something?—and he eyes Cora as she grits her teeth, one hand tightening so much around her phone it looks like it's going to break, the other hand grabbing all of the candy on display next to the register and dumping it with their other groceries.

"Hello, how are—" the kid starts, but Cora holds up a hand in his face and turns away, moving to the end of the register and hissing something into the phone. The kid blinks before he turns to Derek and leans in conspiratorially. "So... that's condom girl?" He pitches his tone lower than usual but it's still not quiet enough, and the old man at the register next to theirs gives them a dirty look. The kid just winks at him and turns back to Derek expectantly.

Derek raises his eyebrows. He tries to imagine Braeden going grocery shopping but he just can't quite get there. Her fridge was pretty much empty when he grabbed them both a beer between rounds two and three, the only other things in it were a block of cheese and a pizza box. "Actually—"

"Okay firstly," Cora snaps, stalking over, shoving her phone back in her pocket, "that's fucking disgusting, he's my brother, and secondly, that's fucking insulting, as is defining any woman by their relation to sex with a man."

The kid takes a moment to process this, glances at Derek, then straightens and nods. "You're absolutely right. I apologise."

Cora eyes him, looking suspicious. "How do you even know my brother? He doesn't know anyone I don't know."

"I don't know him," Derek says.

"I sold him condoms," the kid says cheerfully.

"You didn't _sell_ me condoms, you were just here when I bought them," he corrects, trying not to look too irritated. Cora can sense that type of thing like she's a starving great white shark and he's a bleeding seal, and the outcome is usually just as violent. Better to keep her attention on the kid.

"I pretty much saved his life, or at least his dick's life, and some dudes would say the two are pretty synonymous," the kid says. 

Cora levels a glare at him. It's her most dangerous one but the kid barely flinches. "I feel sorry for your poor, unsuspecting soulmate," she says flatly. "You're a douchefuck."

He shrugs. "soulmates are supposed to love you inclusive of your failings, not just in spite of them, right?" He hands Derek the receipt and winks again, before moving on to the next customer. Derek rolls his eyes and turns to leave but Cora doesn't move, just stands there, still glaring. 

And then she's lunging over to grab the collar of the kid's awful uniform, hauling him closer. The kid yelps but goes with it, his body going loose and pliable, like he knows how to cause himself the minimum damage when he's being manhandled. 

"Oh my God—" the kid squawks.

"Shut up. I need to know your name for when I report you to your manager for being a little shit." Cora squints at the kid's name tag. " _Stiles_. What kind of fucking name is _Stiles_?"

"One you don't wear out," he says weakly. He clears his throat, looking so nervous now that Derek has to hide a laugh. "So um do you think you could put me down? I'm pretty fragile and you guys are kinda scary and pissing my pants in terror would not be a very good career move at this juncture." He holds Cora's gaze for a moment and Derek is about to intervene because people are actually starting to look at them, including the security guard a few feet away, but Stiles says, "Please?" and Cora smirks and lets go, straightening out his shirt and patting him on the shoulder.

"Thatta boy," she says condescendingly, and whirls to head for the exit, leaving Derek with all the bags.

"I'm never taking you shopping again," Derek says once he's caught up with her, but she's looking so pleased with herself, not to mention the calmest he's seen her look in days, and he finds he can't really be mad at her.

+

In the end, Derek can't decide whether Stiles is brave or stupid. A lot of the time the two go hand in hand, but Derek's definitely leaning towards stupid the next day when Stiles looks at Derek, looks at Boyd, looks back at Derek, and says, "So is this condom _guy_ , then?" He's half paying attention as he bags the apples Boyd just _had_ to buy for Erica today, fumbling with them and dropping them in the bag with the meat instead of the bag Derek specifically set aside for the fresh produce. By now Derek is used to reorganising everything back at his car anyway, so he doesn't comment.

Boyd just raises his eyebrows. "Is he talking to me?" he asks slowly.

Derek sighs and glares at Stiles. "Do you never learn?"

Stiles shrugs. "My need for information far outweighs my sense of self-preservation. It isn't my worst flaw."

"Have you not seen Boyd's biceps?" Derek asks, nodding to his friend, who helpfully clenches them, digging his fingers brutally into a head of lettuce. Derek will have to sift through the leaves to find decent ones for the salad now but it's worth it for the way Stiles gulps. 

"Maybe I should reevaluate my life choices," he says, eyeing Boyd warily.

Derek gets out his credit card.

+

The morning Cora is due to Time Out, Derek and Laura meet at their mom's house so early the sun has barely risen.

Derek arrives first, but only just—he's pulling his key out of the ignition of his dad's old Camaro when Laura rattles up in her terrible Toyota, and he cringes when she parks directly in the driveway, practically falls out of the car, and yells across the garden for him to hurry up.

'Subtle' has never been an adjective he would apply to his sister.

Tamping down on his chagrin, Derek gets out of his own car with much more aplomb, as usual, locking it and jogging to the front door where Laura is hopping from foot to foot.

"Hurry uuuuuup, I'm busting for the bathroom," she whines.

"Why didn't you just go in?"

"We're here on a mission, together, I wasn't sure whether I should just—" she cuts herself off when Derek reaches for the door handle, grabbing his wrist. "Wait!"

He sighs. "I thought you _wanted_ to go in."

"I want to use the bathroom, yeah, but I'm not exactly looking forward to the real reason we're here. My bladder is battling with my brain as to who controls my fight or flight response right now."

Derek has to give her that one. This is the last thing he wants to be doing too, but… "We're doing this for Cora," he says firmly. "She's a brat, but we love her anyway, remember?"

"Sometimes," Laura says reluctantly.

"So…" Derek wriggles his wrist, and Laura huffs and releases his arm so he can let them inside.

"Hi mom," he calls, yanking Laura in after him and closing the door again. "It's me."

"And also me but not quite yet, gimme a few minutes!" Laura hollers, dashing past him to burst into the half-bath under the stairs.

Derek continues further into the house and finds his mom in the kitchen, cutting up an apple at the counter.

"Hello darling," she says, pausing briefly to kiss him on the cheek when he offers it.

Derek decides it would be wise to remain wary of her knife, just in case, and sits opposite her at the breakfast bar, out of stabbing range. "Breakfast?"

She adds the apple to her bowl of fruit, carefully sprinkling the pieces in. Derek's heart sinks—she hates cooking, and she's never 'carefully' prepared food in his lifetime. Every internal alarm he possesses pings simultaneously, and he shifts uneasily on his stool, trying not to stare down the hall and make his yearning for Laura too obvious.

"Of course this is breakfast, Derek dear," his mom says pleasantly. "Breakfast is very important, I would never skip it. I never let the three of you skip it either, no matter what, because even when you got old enough to make your own decisions, I still knew you and what was best for you, and I still know you now. So you can stop forcing yourself through the small talk and Laura," she raises her voice so it carries across the room, "can stop pretending she's experiencing the longest lavatory encounter known to humankind and get over here."

Derek sighs. He should've known better. "You knew?"

"Of course she knew," Laura says, slamming the bathroom door behind her and moving to take the seat next to him. "She's mom."

"Don't pretend like you knew she'd know," Derek snaps, poking her hard in the ribs. "You were convinced this would be a successful covert operation."

"Well why did you listen to me? Honestly Derek, the shame is definitely on you, I've fooled you like twice a _day_ by now," she says dismissively, before turning back to their mom.

She's steadily peeling a banana, looking entirely unruffled.

Derek doesn't trust it one bit.

"So, Mom," Laura says, reaching out to grab a chunk of orange and getting her hand slapped with the flat of the knife, "we're here about Cora."

"I see," says their mom.

Derek looks at Laura. Laura looks at Derek. They both look back at their mom.

"And about how she's Timing Out today," Laura continues, sounding less and less confident with each word, which was undoubtedly their mom's plan from the beginning.

"I remember." She adds the banana to the bowl. "She is my beloved daughter after all, and this is a momentous occasion."

"Right, exactly, but we were thinking… We were wondering if… we could possibly treat it as… not so momentous? Maybe?"

Derek sighs.

Laura usually has good intentions, and she's exceptional at giving rousing speeches before the fact, but when it comes to actually following through with a plan, she's not the most reliable (see: asking to go to Disneyland for Laura's eighth birthday, asking for a dog for Derek's twelfth, asking for the Camaro when Derek finally turned sixteen, and many many more failed attempts at parental manipulations). Which is when Derek has to step in, which is why he usually gets most of the blame.

"It's just that Cora's really nervous about today, is all," he says gently. "I know it's important and I know you're excited—"

"We all are!" Laura interjects, unnecessarily.

"—but can we maybe… not make a big deal out of it?"

Their mom is very quiet. Derek tries not to look as intimidated as he feels. "And what would you consider a big deal?" she asks evenly.

"Being tailed like a hardened criminal?" Laura suggests, leaning in keenly.

Derek plants a finger in the middle of her forehead and pushes her back behind him again. "Any extra emphasis put on today. Any kid gloves, anything that might remind her this isn't a normal day."

Their mom looks sceptical. "You do realise that being this sensitive _is_ treating her with kid gloves, right?"

"Yeah but this way she can't _see_ the gloves, which with Cora makes all the difference," Laura says, which is a truth even their mom can't deny. 

There's a long pause. 

Derek can see Laura making stupid eyebrow movements out of the corner of his eye, like he didn't have the exact same childhood as her, like he doesn't know that when Talia Hale pauses in the middle of a conversation it means the other person has won. 

"Fine," she says finally, putting down the knife. "I'll back off. But I have my own set of non-negotiables."

Derek eyes her warily, holding her gaze. 

Laura, incredibly unsubtly, takes the opportunity to nudge the knife closer to their side of the counter. "No problem. What can we do to ensure this process runs as smoothly and effectively as possible?"

"I want hourly updates from one or both of you. Preferably phone calls, but if that is impractical I will accept a text message of no less than four lines. Ten minutes before her Time Out, a phone call is mandatory, and will last the duration of—"

But she gets cut off by Laura, who lunges across the counter to slap a hand over her mouth. "Did you hear that?" she hisses.

Their mom looks livid. " _Excuse m_ —" she tries, but then Derek hears it too—movement on the upstairs landing. Cora is awake.

"Shit," Laura says. She practically vaults over the counter, grabs their mom by the upper arms and starts manhandling her towards the butler's pantry.

"Laura Stephanie Hale!" she says, struggling. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Laura just gives her a pleading look. " _Please_ Mom?"

She glares at Laura some more, but visibly softens after a few seconds and becomes the one to haul Laura out of sight into the butler's pantry, whispering scathingly all the while.

"Of course _you're_ here," Cora says, spotting him from the stairs. She clatters down them, coming into sight range of the kitchen just as the pantry door closes.

Derek wrenches his eyes away from the door and tries to remember how to act like his family isn't insane. "Of course," he repeats dutifully. 

"Where's mom?" Cora asks, throwing herself into the stool Laura just vacated and slouching half over the counter, half over him. She's always the most physically affectionate when she's still half asleep.

"Bathroom?" Derek says, doing his best to channel some sort of casual, laid back persona. From the way Cora straightens and stares at him, he's not doing a great job. "She said something about the… needing… the bathroom."

She snorts. "Yeah, it sounds just like mom to tell you all about her bathroom habits." 

"She didn't— she just said—" Derek tries, but his feeble attempts at fooling her are thwarted when there's a loud noise from the butler's pantry, sounds of a scuffle, Laura's voice hissing _Oh my god Mom I am not filming her!_ , another noise, and then quiet.

Cora gives Derek a flat look. Derek shrugs helplessly. At this point, he's just glad he's not the one stuck in the enclosed space with their mother.

"So fucking stupid," Cora mutters.

"You are," Derek says lamely, but she's ignoring him anyway.

"Oh my god Derek, did you make this for me?" she's saying instead, loudly, grabbing the bowl and dragging it to their side of the counter. "This fruit salad looks delicious." She takes a huge bite, chewing noisily even though she hates fruit and looks like she'd rather be eating her own TiMER.

Derek guesses that she thinks it's worth it when another set of noises echoes out from the pantry, including what sounds like a long, low, "Nooooo".

+

Cora Times Out just after 3.30pm on Thursday afternoon.

She's with Derek. Her car broke down. They're supposed to be meeting Laura for coffee. Instead, they're on the side of the road. There are no other cars around. Cora is standing over the engine of the car, holding the bonnet up by hand because she broke the propper-thing years ago. She's yelling at the car, trying not to look at her TiMER. 

Derek is on the phone to AAA, ignoring the beeping that indicates another call is trying to come through, attempting not to be too obvious about his own rising anxiousness, because he can't see how this is going to work, the cafe was supposed to be the best place to meet Cora's soulmate, she must only have seconds left, how is she going to meet anyone here, Laura was supposed to be here as back up—

Someone pulls up in a car behind them. Cora drops the bonnet. Derek hangs up his phone. Cora squares her shoulders and marches over to the car, stopping once she's a few feet away. The person—tall, brunette, dimples, sparkly eyes—gets out of her car, and Derek knows the minute she locks eyes with Cora, because the sound of two TiMERs going off is absolutely unmistakable.

Cora stares at her soulmate. Her soulmate stares back. Derek watches both of them and tries to remain stoic. That's what Cora needs right now.

The TiMERs finally go quiet.

Cora swallows hard. "Right," she says. It feels like her voice echoes in the silence left in the TiMERs' wake. "Okay."

The woman, Cora's _soulmate_ , tilts her head. "Need some help?"

And then she starts fixing Cora's car.

Their mom's call finally gets through, and she cries down the phone to Derek for twenty minutes while Cora hands her soulmate tools.

+

The next day Derek gets a text from Braeden.

_Can't do tonight. I'll be in touch._

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He knows, he _knows_ , that it was only a hook up. They're not soulmates—well, she doesn't have a TiMER so he can't be sure, but it's pretty unlikely, and he's not even sure if they'd be compatible enough for that—and she was very clear with him. She set out boundaries and explained her expectations and was basically the most fair person anyone could have a one night stand with, but still. Derek had hoped.

And so instead of spending his night with a beautiful woman, he's stuck being the chaperone-cum-third wheel on his sister's first date with her soulmate, whom they've since discovered is actually Allison Argent. Aka the daughter of Victoria Argent, the biggest and most influential anti-TiMER spokesperson in California. Aka their mom's nemesis.

At least Cora's not the golden child anymore. Evidently all of Talia Hale's children were destined to make her life as difficult as possible.

Allison seems like a normal human being, though. She'd been a bit quiet yesterday, but she'd quickly and efficiently diagnosed the car's problem and provided them with a temporary fix, an explanation that went way over Derek's head, and advice to take the car to a mechanic ASAP. She and Cora had exchanged phone numbers but left it at that, and Derek had driven home with Cora brooding and tense in the passenger seat. He hadn't heard from her for an entire twenty four hours after that, not until he'd pulled up outside her apartment to drive her to her date.

Laura had been the one to leave him a random cryptic voice message giving him the details about the date and begging him to fulfil their mom's wishes to creepily chaperone the date of two legal adults (her words). This was supposed to be her job, but she'd supplied some weird excuse about having an appointment, and Derek was not willing to ask for any more details because the last time he did, he ended up receiving a blow-by-blow account of her trip to the gynaecologist. He's learned his lesson.

Anyway, now that Cora has had some time, particularly time away from everyone even vaguely Hale-adjacent, she seems calm and a lot more open to this meeting, especially since Allison had picked the venue and it's a steakhouse, which happens to be one of the only cuisines Cora will actually eat. That's already a winning point in Allison's favour and she's barely even done anything. Derek soon discovers that she's polite and smart too, and she really doesn't seem to mind Derek being there, despite having raised an eyebrow at Cora when they'd first walked in. She's even made efforts to include him in conversation, asking him about his job and his relationship with Cora, and although he's seen her eyes flit to his TiMER, she hasn't mentioned it, which means she at least possesses some basic understanding of courteous social interaction.

Derek likes her already.

"...that's one of the reasons I got one, actually," she's saying, and Cora raises an eyebrow.

"You got a TiMER because your parents didn't want you to have one? I wonder what that's like," Cora says dryly, and Derek snorts, taking a gulp of his beer.

"I'd imagine it's probably just as frustrating as being forced to have one," Allison comments, frowning and leaning back in her seat. "I think anyone that feels like they have the right to police what decisions someone else makes about their own body needs to reevaluate their position, especially considering you have to be a legal adult before you get a TiMER anyway. It's not really anyone's business what someone decides to do after that."

There's silence. Derek chances a glance at Cora. Cora is staring at Allison, head cocked, eyebrows up, and oh yeah. Derek thinks that Cora might like Allison Argent, too.

He tamps down on a smirk and leans over the table. "Our mom wants to throw a party for you guys next week. I'm supposed to tell you to invite people, she wants to get to know you and the people you love. Just let Cora know what day works for you and how many people are coming."

"It won't be weird at all," Cora says, not taking her eyes off Allison. "Especially with Derek aka my mom's little errand boy there."

Derek frowns. "I hope you enjoyed your time as the favourite," he snaps. "You better, it won't last much longer."

Allison raises her eyebrows. "Wow, I'm really sensing some inter-sibling tension going on here."

"Oh Allison," Cora says on a sigh, "sweet summer only-child Allison. Welcome to the family."

+

Derek is translating page 333 of 647 when his mother calls. 

"Mom," Derek huffs, "do you ever want me to finish your book?" 

"Derek," she says, matching his tone, "the Italians have lasted this long without a translation, I'm sure they'll manage a little while longer. Your little sister, however, will only ever have one Time Out party." 

Derek sighs. She says that now, but he knows that in a week's time she'll be calling him and berating him for how long he's taking. The exact same thing happened with the Japanese translation of her last book, which just so happened to coincide with a cousin's party, and it'll happen again when Peter and his wife Nancy have their Time Out anniversary party in a few months.

It's just how things work with his mom. Most of the time he accepts it, because family is family, no matter how annoying they are. Normally, he doesn't even think about it.

This time though, maybe because of Cora's comment to Allison, as soon he's agreed to help and hung up the phone, he can't stop thinking about it.

She's his mom _and_ his employer, so he'll always defer to her on at least one of those levels. But why is it so automatic? Why does he acquiesce to _everything_ she asks—often before she's even finished asking for it—like the minion of some evil overlord?

He's almost thirty. He should be able to stand up to his mom. His sisters can do it, and he's just the middle child. How did all the parent-related responsibilities fall to him? Because he doesn't have a soulmate? Because he might never have one? So he's, what, filling that empty space with his mom?

He's still stewing about it, alternately mad at himself and his mom, when he picks her up. And then he broods about it the whole time they're out, while his mom talks and talks and collects an insane amount of food in a cart she just expects Derek to push and doesn't even _notice_ Derek's mood. By the time they're heading for the registers Derek _hates everything_ and he just wants to go home.

A feeling that intensifies a hundredfold when he hears a painfully familiar voice up ahead.

Stiles.

Great.

But it's far too late to redirect his mom now—the self-checkouts are finally working again but she hates using them, and Stiles has the least customers in his aisle. She's already nudging Derek into place to start unloading their cart.

Derek officially has no choice. All he can do is resign himself to his fate.

"Hot Stubbled Grump!" Stiles says delightedly. "Dude, is this your way of slowly introducing me to the family?" He turns to Derek's mom. "Ah, but surely you're not old enough to be his mom, you must be another of his sisters, your loveliness is simply beyond—"

"Okay, stop," she says sharply, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

Stiles pulls up short, blinking. "Definitely related," he says after a pause, and wisely shuts his mouth and starts packing their bags.

"How do you know this boy, Derek?" his mom asks, a disapproving lilt in her tone, loud enough for Stiles to hear. 

Derek feels a flare of annoyance. "Too bad if he'd actually been my friend," he mutters. 

"He's not though, is he?" his mom asks, glaring at Stiles.

Stiles looks like he has to physically bite back a retort, and pastes on a brittle smile.

"Would it be your business if he was?" Derek snaps, and regrets it immediately, especially once he sees his mom's hurt expression. He looks away, shame burning in his cheeks and ears, and mutters, "We forgot the chocolate chips," despite the fact that there's a bulk pack of chocolate chips right in front of him.

He retreats, hurrying towards the back of the store, as far away as he can get, and loiters at the ice cream for a few minutes, sticking his head into one of the freezers.

He really needs to get his shit together. How can he expect his mom to treat him like his own person when he’s been acting the same way since he was a kid—lashing out first, and feeling guilty afterwards. Not thinking at the time, and overthinking later. Expecting his mom to automatically know how he’s feeling, but never actually talking to her about it.

Complaining about his life, but never doing anything to help change it.

Taking a breath, Derek emerges from the freezer, ignoring the strange looks he gets from the youths a few feet away. He squares his shoulders and ambles back to the cash registers, via the baking aisle to pick up chocolate chips, just as a cover. Neither his mom nor Stiles are around as he finally uses the self serve for the chocolate, but he figures Stiles would have rung his mom up as quickly as possible, despite the truly mammoth amount of food, just to avoid excess awkwardness.

But his mom isn't in the parking lot, either. And neither is his car.

Derek stands in front the empty spot the Camaro used to be in, and feels his entire will to live slip away. "Oh fuck," he says blankly. He's gone and got his _dad's car_ stolen. The only real piece of him they have left. The last meaningful memento. His dad's _car_.

Laura is going to _kill_ him. All she wanted from when she was five is to own that car, but their dad left it to Derek in the will, and she's going to absolutely eviscerate him, shit, and his mom—

His mom.

The relief as he remembers his mom has the other set of keys for the Camaro is dizzying, and he nearly staggers with it.

Until he realises that means he's stuck here. Because she left without him.

His mom _actually_ stranded him. Like he's a kid throwing a tantrum, only Derek really doesn't expect her to come back around the corner and ask if he's learned his lesson. He'd try to call her but he knows she'd never pick up, both because she's pissed and because she insists with terrifying intensity that as long as the car is not in park, the driver must never even _consider_ touching their phone.

"Shit," he curses, kicking at the asphalt. 

A car pulls up behind him and idles, probably wanting the space. Derek whirls around, opens his mouth, then closes it again when he realises it's Stiles. Stiles pulls his busted old Jeep into the empty spot next to Derek and rolls down his window.

"Need a lift?" he asks, sounding amused.

Derek frowns. "Not from you," he bites out. "I'm going to call my sister."

Strikes rolls his eyes. "You're being a dick. I'm right here. I can stick to main roads and drop you off a block away. I never have to know your address, if that's what you're worried about."

"Why would you do that?" Derek asks suspiciously.

Stiles winces and scratches at his neck. "I may have made things worse between you and your mom. I accidentally mentioned the condoms—"

"How do you _accidentally_ —"

"And apparently your mom didn't know you had a girlfriend? Not gonna lie, she was pretty disapproving of someone who looks like thirty-five and can make his own decisions." Stiles' hands drum something out on his steering wheel, and he points at Derek. "I'm talking about you, beeteedubs."

Derek sighs. "My mom would like everyone to save themselves for their soulmate," he admits.

"I'm sure that works for some people," Stiles says. Then he shifts in his seat. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Why do you care? What about you, you look younger than my sister. You met her, she threatened your life?"

Stiles shivers at the memory. Derek makes mental note to tell Cora, she'll be pleased. "Dude I'm an ancient creature, I turned 23 like a few months ago."

"And you're still working at the grocery store?"

Stiles immediately bristles, his hands flexing on the wheel. "Maybe I'm taking a year off and saving for grad school. Maybe I'm taking online courses. Maybe I'm looking after a sick family member. Maybe I like working at a grocery store, and maybe I'll work there forever! Maybe you don't know me at all. You know what, fuck you, let's see you spend all day having to be nice to people like you and your family for the minimum wage, you fucking elitist asshole!"

Derek blinks. "Uh."

Stiles takes a breath, closes his eyes, and deflates. He looks very tired all of a sudden, the bags under his eyes wide and dark. It's both strange and a comfort to see this other side to him.

"Sorry," Derek offers.

Stiles grunts. They're quiet for a few moments. 

"So you want a lift or not?" Stiles bites out finally.

Derek tries to make it seem like he didn't jump. "I…" He hesitates. It would be easier than calling Laura or a cab, but a lot more awkward. "No," he decides, then adds belatedly, "uh, thanks."

"Whatever." He starts to do his window back up, hesitates, then leans out again. "Piece of advice, though. Make up with your mom. Whatever the problem is, fix it. It's not worth it." 

He salutes and drives off, and Derek watches him go.

+

Derek's mom is in the kitchen making coffee when Derek ventures inside. He hovers in the doorway, unsure of his welcome, before taking a step into the kitchen.

His mom glares at him.

Derek retreats, heading around to the other side of the breakfast bar to perch on a stool, as is his wont. He says nothing. He knows better than to speak first.

She makes him wait a full three minutes before she says, with a calmness that Derek knows from experience is completely manufactured, "I know this has been hard on you, seeing Cora Time Out so quickly, seeing her find happiness with her soulmate. But you're much more tolerable when your asshole setting is only set to one, like usual."

Derek can't help his smirk. "Asshole setting?"

His mom sniffs. "Cora made it up. It's too apt not to use, despite the vulgarity."

"Mom, I translate your books for a living, I know exactly how vulgar you can be."

His mom blushes and busies herself with organising their mugs, quiet again. Then, softer, much less confrontational, "Where did it come from, anyway? Am I smothering you?"

Derek forces himself not to deny it straight away, to really consider her words. "A little," he says eventually. "But we both kind of like it that way, you know that."

"Then what?"

"I'm just feeling… powerless, I guess," he admits.

"Sweetie." She reaches over to take his hand. "Your time will come, okay? It won't always be like this, I know it. You'll find your soulmate. Until then, you just need to have faith, okay?"

Which is all stuff he's heard before, over and over for the past ten years. It doesn't really help anymore.

He pretends that it does.

"Thanks mom." He squeezes her hand, forcing a smile.

"And in the meantime, you've got your… friend. The girl. The one you're having… your girlfriend," his mom stutters, obviously uncomfortable. "Are you bringing her to the party?"

It's almost worth stringing her along. Derek considers it, thinks about telling her that he and Braeden have a much more complex connection than they actually do, and then people might leave him alone… But it's not worth it. "Nah. We're not… a 'we'. Not like that."

She looks relieved. "That's really for the best," she says, removing her hand. She pats him on the cheek. "Non-soulmate relationships are never a good idea."

Derek almost wants to follow through with the honesty thing, to remind her that that's easy for her to say, it's easy for anyone who has ever had the guarantee of a life partner to say—

But he doesn't. He can't. He just accepts the coffee she offers him, and listens to her talk about how she's probably going to have to fire the gardener. 

+

The next time Derek sees Stiles, Stiles doesn't actually see him.

Derek's at the movies with Laura. It's their one night off from party planning, and it was Laura's turn to pick a film, so unfortunately they're seeing something with superheroes in it. Because obviously she wants him to wither and die during the newest ridiculous, overlong monstrosity of boring chase scenes and terrible banter.

She comes back with popcorn and a massive soda while Derek is gazing longingly at the poster of what is supposed to be an amazing Spanish film and trying to drown out the shrieks and chatter of over-excited, overwhelming teenagers.

"We're not seeing that," she says flatly, following his gaze. "Derek. We're not. I refuse to have to read while I'm experiencing a visual medium, I am not a savage!"

Derek shrugs. "It's my choice next time," is all he says, before grinning smugly at her and leading the way to their theatre.

It isn't until about forty minutes in, a timecode he knows because he claimed an aisle seat for the express purpose of being able to lean down and use the stair lights to check his phone, that he notices Stiles. He's sitting a few rows ahead with an older man who Derek is pretty sure is his dad, and he's surrounded by junk food, none of which he seems to be letting his dad eat—he keeps slapping the Sheriff's hand every time it drifts towards the food, even though Stiles hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

Somehow Derek finds himself watching Stiles instead of the movie, most likely because it's a miracle seeing him so still and quiet. Occasionally, his dad will lean in to say something and Stiles will whisper back, tilting towards his dad but still never looking away. Stiles' shoulders are much wider than his work uniform make them seem, Derek notices. Also, he seems to have a vendetta against straws, if the way he's gnawing on the one in his cola is any indication.

Derek isn't sure how long he spends creepily watching Stiles instead of the movie, but it's obviously a while because the next thing he knows the credits are rolling and the lights are coming up, Stiles stretching his long arms into the air and nearly punching someone in the face.

"So, go for it," Laura says, diving into her purse to grab her phone and turn it off silent, like anyone would be calling her. "Start your long list of complaints, I'm ready for it."

He shrugs. "No list." His eyes dart down to Stiles, who's getting up and retrieving all his junk food wrappers, and Derek quickly turns his back to the lower section of the theatre. He's hiding from Stiles, and he's ridiculous. He knows this very well, and he's fine with it.

Laura squints at him suspiciously. "Derek the film snob has no opinion on the lowest common denominator trash we just consumed? Nothing at all to say about the overinflated stakes, the lacklustre character development or the predictable fight scene choreography?"

There's a gasp from behind them, and Laura spins to see a father-daughter duo, both in Superman t-shirts, both glaring at Laura, the father's hands slapped over his daughter's ears.

"No, that's not— I'm not—" Laura tries to say, but the guy just grabs his daughter's hand and hurries her away, like Laura is a wanted criminal.

"I've changed my mind," Derek says, grinning. "This is the most entertained I think I've ever been, turns out Hollywood blockbusters have some merit after all."

Laura shoves him, and he almost topples over the seats in the next row, but it's totally worth it for her sulky silence the whole ride home.

+

Derek's mom tends to get a little… obsessive, when she's throwing a party. Things don't just have to be cleaned once, they have to be cleaned three times. The food and alcohol ordered has to cater for double the number of expected guests, just in case. There are several forms of entertainment provided, including the games room that no one is allowed to use at any other time of the year and is almost always immediately taken over by Isaac, Erica and Boyd, and a karaoke machine that no one actually uses for karaoke, thank god. By the end of the night, his mom is frazzled and exhausted and they don't see her for a long time afterwards—Derek and his sisters have been tasked with next-day clean up duties since he and Laura were annoying teenagers themselves.

To be honest, Derek has no idea why his mom has them so often. She never even seems to enjoy them that much.

Last time, for Cora's TiMER ceremony, Derek had been able to avoid the bulk of the preparation, citing a deadline he just _had_ to meet or he wouldn't be able to come to the party itself. But this time his mom has done all of her groundwork perfectly. She knows none of her children, or their friends, are busy, and she has supplied everyone with their own job, other than Derek, whom she has floating around doing odd jobs that mostly involve lifting heavy things.

He can only be grateful his mom hasn't sent him out to the store (she seems to have learned her lesson and now gets most of the food delivered, since the last ceremony when Laura had taken three hours to pick up the specialty cake from a store that was only twenty minutes away). Seeing Stiles again, because he would undoubtedly be working because he's always working, is not something Derek thinks he could handle today.

He sighs, throwing himself into a chair at the dining table, finally taking a short break after having rearranged all of the furniture, moving everything exactly three inches to the left. He wonders if he'll have time for a quick shower before the guests start arriving, and then has the dark thought that maybe if he doesn't then people might actually stay away from him.

"Derek, darling, where did you put the mop?" his mom calls, interrupting his plotting.

He hates that he jumps up, in a panic that he'll get caught resting on the job, and straightens the positioning of the chair. "It's in the kitchen," he yells back.

"I know you're being 'helpful', but please stop, you keep moving things and I have no idea where you put them." 

Derek takes a few calming breaths, and tries very hard not to point out that she was the one who told him to put them there. "Happy to not help," he mutters instead, but it's all in vain, because his mom appears from the dining room and hears him anyway.

"Okay," she says, stopping at the display cabinet with all her fine china in it, using the mirror backing to put on her earrings. "I know I'm being the annoying, impossible mom right now. I just want everything to go well, you understand that, right?" She turns to him finally, expression the perfect mixture of hesitant and expectant.

Derek sighs. "Sure."

"Good," his mom says. "Now go and vacuum the front entrance please, a first impression is very important." She nods to the vacuum cleaner leaning against the wall, and then sweeps back into the kitchen.

Derek looks at the vacuum. He has already vacuumed the front entrance today. Twice.

He grits his teeth and swears to kill Laura when she gets back from 'raking the garden path', which has now somehow taken over an hour. He grabs the vacuum and stomps towards the front door, but before he can start the doorbell rings. 

Derek has never been more grateful to be the closest one to a visitor.

"I got it," he calls, dropping the vacuum with a clatter and swinging around to open the door, where—

He stops dead. And stares. Because the visitor is—

It's Stiles.

Stiles is at his mom's doorstep.

Stiles. From the store. Cashier Stiles. Obnoxious Stiles.

Stiles, wearing a ripped hoodie, cutoff cargo pants, long socks and flip flops. Stiles, with a patchy half-beard and hair that… actually looks better flopping onto his forehead, without all the product in it, but Derek would never tell him that.

The point is, he looks like Derek's mom's worst nightmare. And he's at Derek's mom's doorstep.

"What— _Stiles_?" Derek hisses, glancing back inside, slipping out a little and pulling the door over behind him. If his mom sees Stiles, she'll probably call the police. Derek isn't so sure he shouldn't call them himself. "What the fuck, are you crazy? You can't be here!"

Stiles scratches at his jaw, tilting his head in what looks like confusion. "Uhhh, I think I can," he says slowly. "And for the record, I'm just as surprised to see you."

Derek frowns. "What… if you aren't being a weird stalker then what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to celebrate the happy couple!" Stiles says. "I got the cheapest wine I could buy, because Allison's parents already hate me anyway. Let's put it in the hottest place we can find and serve it to them first!" He pushes past Derek, and Derek can only watch as he marches up to Laura, who must have finally 'finished' outside, and introduces himself and she starts laughing with him within the first fifteen seconds.

Oh. No.

+

Derek does his best to keep Stiles and his mom separated for the next half an hour. Thankfully, she's busy enough that she's barely paying attention to the people around her anyway, too focused on the house. There's a terrifying moment when Derek loses track of Stiles and his mom hurries right past him where he's stealing food from the buffet (which Isaac has taken as permission to do the same), but she doesn't even notice him. Stiles definitely sees her though, and shoots two sarcastic thumbs up at Derek from behind her.

Derek points at Stiles in a way that would usually be totally threatening, he knows from experience, but Stiles doesn't seem to care, just winks and wanders off towards the kitchen—which is thankfully the opposite direction from his mom, but also where all the alcohol is.

If sober Stiles is already this intolerable, Derek can only imagine what drunk Stiles is like.

"Shit," Derek mutters. He's just about to follow after him when he feels a large, heavy hand drop onto his shoulder.

"Hey, what's the obnoxious cashier doing here?" Boyd asks. He grabs a celery stick and crunches into it, dragging it off his teeth again noisily.

" _Stiles_ is apparently a friend of Allison's," Derek grits out, biting his tongue, trying not to think about his mom's reaction will be when she discovers just how much food is already gone.

"And you just took his word on that? Are you sure he isn't just stalking you, man?"

"Ew, who would be bored and or desperate enough to stalk _Derek_ ," Erica asks, butting in and draping herself over Boyd. "What a sad life."

"The stalker's or Derek's?" Boyd asks, offering her what's left of his celery.

She wrinkles her nose and reaches for one of the intricately arranged cupcakes instead. Derek slaps her hand away. "Both," she says glaring at him.

He rolls his eyes. "Stiles is not stalking me, I promise. He's just—"

"Wait, what? Stiles?" Erica's eyes go wide and she grabs Derek's arm, yanking him closer. "Stiles as in Stiles Stilinski? Stiles Stilinski is here?"

"Wait, the _sheriff's _kid is the cashier?" Boyd turns to Erica accusingly. "You had a thing for _that_ guy?"__

__Erica glares at him. "We all made questionable decisions in high school. Plus, he was hot. He had like this baby face but the body of a grown man, the dichotomy was…" Her eyes glaze over for a moment, before she shakes her head and turns back to Derek. "Is he still hot?"_ _

__"How am I supposed to know?" Derek hedges, because telling Erica anything is dangerous. She has the memory of an elephant, if the elephant's memory was photographic as well as everlasting. "I don't know what he looked like before."_ _

__"You know what he looks like now," she argues._ _

__"I'd say Derek thought he was plenty hot," Boyd says. "There was banter—"_ _

__"Boyd," Derek says warningly._ _

__"Oh my god, I have to see him," Erica says excitedly._ _

__"—I'd even say it was close to flirting," Boyd continues._ _

__"Betrayal," Derek hisses._ _

__Boyd grins and shrugs as Erica pulls him away. "I love her, man. I only kinda like you."_ _

__And then he can't follow them, either, because the doorbell rings again and he's the only one around to answer it. There two people standing on the stoop, tall and smug and haughty, and Derek hates them immediately._ _

__"Victoria Argent," the woman introduces herself, but she doesn't hold her hand out for a shake. She's keeping to herself, looking around and peering inside like she'll catch some of disease if anything touches her. "This is my husband, Christopher. We’re Allison’s parents."_ _

__Derek grits his teeth. "I'm Derek, Cora's older brother," he forces himself to say politely. "Please come in."_ _

__"Thank you," Chris says stiffly._ _

__This is going to be so much fun, Derek can tell already._ _

__He closes the door after the Argents, and has barely turned to face them when Victoria is dumping their jackets on him, practically on his face. He hangs them up on the coat rack, which happens to be _right behind them_ , and forces himself to do it civilly._ _

__"I'm sorry that Allison's grandfather couldn't make it," Victoria says, sounding far from apologetic._ _

__"He thinks TiMERs are evil and refuses to speak to anyone who has one," Stiles says cheerfully, downing what Derek is pretty sure is his second beer. "I guess Allison's out of the will now, am I right Chris?" He elbows Chris hard in the side a few times. And then he ducks away again, leaving desolation in his wake. Derek has a feeling that verbal destruction is Stiles' biggest talent._ _

__Chris glares after him. "My father has strong opinions about TiMER culture, and a strong set of morals."_ _

__"So, you're saying that TiMERs are immoral?" Derek's mom asks, arriving to hear the end of the conversation, champagne flute halfway to her mouth. She's not quite defensive yet, but her hackles are rising with every passing judgement-riddled comment._ _

__Chris shares a look with Victoria. "That wasn't my point."_ _

__"But if you want a straighter answer," Victoria says smoothly, "then I'd be happy to debate about TiMER politics with you." She unleashes a terrifying smile. "It would be fun."_ _

__Thankfully, at that point the doorbell rings again and Derek has the perfect excuse to leave the conversation._ _

__"Excuse me," he mutters to no one, sliding past his mom and hurrying to the door. When he opens it it's Allison, and he breathes a sigh of relief._ _

__"He's got that look," someone says, and Derek turns to see a pretty redhead standing next to her, arms crossed and eyes assessing. "That wild-eyed, the Argents are gonna kill us look." She nudges Allison. "You better hurry."_ _

__Allison spares him a grim smile before squaring her shoulders and marching inside, leaving Derek with her friend._ _

__"Lydia Martin," she says, and pushes inside, not bothering to wait for any reciprocal greetings. "Show me to any wine that Stiles didn't bring."_ _

__+_ _

__"So basically," Stiles says loudly, sidling up to Derek, drink nearly sloshing all over the both of them, "your mom doesn't approve of my friends Scott and Kira because they don't have TiMERs, Allison's mom offended your friends Boyd and Erica with horrifically unsubtle comments about getting married too young, and—"_ _

__The kitchen door swings open and Cora appears in the doorway, looking pissed as hell, hands clenched around a plate of cake. She's followed by Chris Argent, who looks equally as sour, and both of them scatter to opposite sides of the room._ _

__"...Yup, there we go, three's a pattern. My conclusion: this party is just as atrocious, yet just as entertaining, as I predicted it would be." He holds up his glass. "Na zdrowie!"_ _

__He drains his drink, slaps Derek on the shoulder, and wanders off again._ _

__+_ _

__It doesn't take long for Derek to decide that Stiles' commitment to drinking is the most sensible plan for the evening. The whole party is a disaster, no one is talking to each other (except for his mom who is anxiously darting from one cluster of people to another, trying desperately to start conversation), and he's pretty sure Cora and Allison actually left about an hour ago._ _

__Yeah._ _

__Ducking out of the dining room, Derek heads into kitchen and beelines directly for the fridge. A pretty Asian girl is already staring inside, hanging off the door and hesitantly reaching for something, but when she hears Derek behind her she practically leaps aside, looking flustered._ _

__"Sorry, hi, sorry, I wasn't— I know I'm not— I was just, I hate wine because it gives me a headache and the mixers are too sweet, but I wasn't sure if I could— sorry!"_ _

__Derek raises his eyebrows, catching the fridge door before it can close completely. "Did something else catch your eye?"_ _

__"Yes— I mean, no, it's not mine, so I'm not. No." She frowns and shakes her head. "You must think I'm like super drunk already, I promise I'm not, I'm just like this all the time."_ _

__"I'm like this all the time, too," Derek says dryly. "Seriously, did you want anything in particular? My mom probably wouldn't even care, she's very into the idea of impressing Allison's friends."_ _

__"Oh, I don't really know Allison, I just… She used to date Scott, and now I'm dating Scott, so…"_ _

__Derek snorts. He has no idea what it is about youths these days that means they all have to date each other, but if they've figured out a way to make it work for them then he's quite happy just judging silently from afar. "Let's see…" He shoves a six pack of terrible beer aside, reaching into the very back of the fridge where he knows Peter will have hidden his favourite imported beers. Peter only shows up anymore for special events, and he always brings his own alcohol. Otherwise he lives in LA with Nancy, who is rich and always seems to be on a business trip. He's obnoxiously pretentious, these days, living it up and lording it over his lesser family members when he sends them the occasional expensive gift. Derek was so happy when he couldn't make it to the Timer ceremony, and he wishes he'd just sent a gift to Cora instead of insisting on coming to this party. Peter will hate that Derek's sharing his precious liquor, but Derek's pretty sure it all evens out in the end. "What about a… Hitochino Ale?"_ _

__"Is that… stereotyping?" Kira says, but she's giving him a shy smile as she says it and accepting the bottle gratefully._ _

__"It wasn't supposed to be." Derek shrugs. He hands her a bottle opener and uses the edge of the counter to bust the lid off his own bottle. "I just know my uncle bought these, which means they'll probably be the only good things here." He extends his beer out and she taps hers against it._ _

__"Kanpai," she says, grinning._ _

__"Kanpai." He takes a sip, watching and then pretending he wasn't when she drinks, some beer spills out of the corner of her mouth, and she reaches up to quickly wipe it away. " _So, do you speak any Japanese_?" he asks, in Japanese, before switching back to English. "Or is that stereotyping too?"_ _

__Kira shakes her head. " _I speak a little. I'm trying to learn_." She shakes her head. "I understand more than I speak. I hated learning when I was a kid, I refused. I was dumb."_ _

__" _All kids do dumb things_ ," Derek says. His attention is caught by Stiles, who's wandering into the kitchen, letting out a symphony of burps. " _And some people never grow up_."_ _

__Kira giggles, holding her hand over her mouth._ _

__Stiles stops short. "Were you just speaking Japanese?" he asks, squinting._ _

__"Derek’s much better at it than me," Kira hurries to say. "He’s—"_ _

__But she’s interrupted by Peter, who tsks loudly as he sweeps into the room. "I see you found my stash," he says, pulling open the fridge and to get another ale out and turning to glare meaningfully at Derek’s drink._ _

__Derek rolls his eyes. "It was in the _fridge_ , Peter, it’s not like you bothered really trying to hide it."_ _

__"And you shared it too," he says unhappily, gaze falling to Kira, whose eyes widen as she inches behind Derek. "Always so… giving."_ _

__Stiles snorts. "Oh yeah, that’s Derek, super generous."_ _

__Peter turns to him, eyeing him dubiously. "And you are?"_ _

__"Officially?" He puffs out his chest, tapping over his heart with his left fist. "I’m Derek’s favourite person in the whole world."_ _

__"I see." Peter leans back against the counter, his eyes never leaving Stiles._ _

__It makes Derek nervous._ _

__"I thought you and your friends were of the anti-Timer persuasion," Peter says, smirking. "And yet, here you have one."_ _

__Stiles shrugs. "It comes in handy."_ _

__"Ah youth, keeping the romance alive," Peter says dryly._ _

__"Romance is transient at worst, inconsistent at best. I'm not looking for romance," Stiles says dismissively._ _

__"How meaningful your life must be." Peter sniffs, gifting Derek with one last withering glare before striding out, and Kira takes the opportunity to hurry away too, nearly crashing directly into—_ _

__Derek's mom. Who is standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at Stiles with wide eyes and a horrified expression._ _

__Shit._ _

__"What on _earth_ are you doing here? _How_ did you— Get out of my house this instant!" she hisses, stalking forward, grabbing Stiles' arm, but he doesn't seem worried at all. He looks mostly upset that her jostling caused him to spill some of his drink. _ _

__"Hey, I'm just enjoying the show, no need to get all handsy!" He does a little spin, manoeuvring himself out of her grasp._ _

__" _Excuse me_?!" She looks livid now, almost as bad as when she found out seventeen-year-old Laura was sneaking out and smoking pot with her chemistry tutor instead of studying like she'd promised. It'd be interesting to watch if it weren't so terrifying. "I'll call the police!"_ _

__"You do that," Stiles responds, the kind of smug only the Sheriff's son could be._ _

__Derek's mom's face goes even redder._ _

__Derek decides he should probably step in. "It's fine mom, he's friends with Allison."_ _

__"Of course you are," she says dismissively. "Of course the Argents allow their daughter to gallivant around with obnoxious cashiers."_ _

__"Obnoxious cashiers with cop dads and double degrees, yeah," Stiles says agreeably. "Not that that matters to them anyway, Victoria's hated me since me and Scott were sixteen and we broke into the school office to make animal mating calls over the loudspeaker, and Chris just hates us on principle." He shrugs. "At least that's one thing you guys have in common."_ _

__There's a pause. Derek can almost see the smoke billowing out his mom's ears._ _

__"Well," she says eventually, drawing herself up her full height, smoothing down the front of her dress. "I suppose there's no point casting pearls before swine. Enjoy the rest of your evening."_ _

__Stiles squints, watching her stalk away. "Am I the pearls or the swine in this scenario?"_ _

__"I think you know you're the swine," Derek says. "We're pretty much all the swine."_ _

__"Well hey," Stiles says, "I think we just found my new life motto."_ _

__+_ _

__They get separated for a while, Stiles ending up in deep conversation with Laura while Derek is tasked to clean up consecutive spills from a sheepish Scott and Kira. They're reunited half an hour later, when Derek escapes to the safety of his childhood bedroom on the second floor and finds Stiles already inside._ _

__"Hey," Derek says, slipping in and closing the door behind him._ _

__Stiles grunts in response, seemingly engrossed in perusing Derek's old Goosebumps collection, running his fingertips along the spines._ _

__Derek forces himself to look away, taking in the newest changes to his old room. The half furthest from the door looks familiar, the side with his bed and bookcase looking just like it did when he moved out for good four years ago, but the other half's been turned into a mini office of for his mom. She's even using his old desk, and he can't help but wonder why he never got a call from her asking him to help her move it._ _

__"I used to like Animorphs," Stiles says suddenly, and Derek redirects his attention again. "The idea of transforming into an animal always seemed so awesome."_ _

__He raises his eyebrows. "Because you were a super unpopular kid in middle school and just wanted to be anything else?" he teases._ _

__"Dude, that wasn't just reserved for middle school, that is a life-long affliction," Stiles says, almost proudly. His long fingers drop to the next shelf, the one that holds Derek's full set of encyclopaedias. "Oh man, the days before the internet were rough."_ _

__Derek moves further into his old room, closer to Stiles. "No Google, no Netflix, no HD porn, how did we do it."_ _

__Stiles turns away from the bookshelf to grin at Derek, and Derek stares, because this sincere, tipsy little smile is… pretty stunning, to be honest. It feels like everything about Stiles is suddenly glowing, and Derek can't help but be drawn towards him. "I know how I did it," Stiles says, expression turning dirty and maybe even a little flirty._ _

__Derek swallows. He can't take his eyes off Stiles, and Stiles is looking back, intensely focused, so different from his usual frenetic energy, and it's stupid, he knows it is but something about him is just—_ _

__A tinny Tarzan warble breaks the silence._ _

__"That's my Scotty text tone," Stiles says evenly, not looking away._ _

__Derek tries to sound just as composed. "Kira's boyfriend, right?"_ _

__"And my bestie, yeah."_ _

__Tarzan hollers again._ _

__"You should check it," Derek says. "My mom might be reading them excerpts of her latest novel."_ _

__Stiles raises an eyebrow. "She writes? Anything I'd recognise?"_ _

__Derek pretends to consider it. "Well, her last trilogy was called The Final Countdown trilogy. The best selling book in that trilogy was the first instalment, Time After TiMER. Right now she's working on a new time travel romance called The TiMER Warp. There's a whole shelf of them downstairs, if you're interested. About ten years' worth."_ _

__"Uh…" Stiles blinks, finally breaking their stare-off, obviously not believing him. Derek just looks at him. Stiles' eyes widen and he must understand the reality of the situation because he practically dives for his phone. "Okay, yeah," he says, voice high-pitched, scrolling through his messages. "I have to go back down now, because it's actually worse than that and the Argents are accusing Scott of stealing something from Victoria's purse."_ _

__Derek should be surprised. He isn't. "They really do hate you guys."_ _

__Stiles grins. "Beautiful, isn't it?" And then he winks, backs out of the room, and disappears from sight._ _

__+_ _

__Derek spends the rest of the night avoiding Stiles._ _

__It's easy to do, considering Stiles is quite drunk now, broadcasting his every movement with loud laughter and large gesticulations. He's keeping to the middle of the room, being the life of the party. He doesn't even notice Derek tucked in the corner, loitering by the stairs and cringing at the memory of what happened up in his old room, wondering how it ever got to the point where he was _flirting_ with Stiles. And they had a _moment_. He had a moment with _Stiles_ , his obnoxious cashier._ _

__Obviously, Derek has had far too much to drink and he cannot be trusted and while he's forced to be here he must distract himself with other things._ _

__Like observing Laura and her interactions with Lydia._ _

__Lydia took up residence on the couch once her disagreement with Peter ended, and Laura joined her almost immediately, whereupon they fell into some sort of hushed, almost urgent-seeming conversation. Neither of them have moved since, and Derek is very intrigued by this development, mainly because he's never seen Laura look so interested in another person._ _

__As far as Derek's aware, Laura has never even dated anyone. He's always assumed that she's waiting to Time Out, which is… It's her decision, but he's not sure how she does it. How she'll keep doing it, keep being alone, for another fifteen years._ _

__She could have kept it a secret, but he doesn't think she would—they tell each other everything. They're closer to each other than anyone else in the world. They grew up together. She tells him about her life in full detail, from whose lunch she's stolen most recently at the office to what brand of toilet paper she uses. If she ever had someone, she'd tell him._ _

__It doesn't mean he can't watch them and speculate, though._ _

__"So, Laura's been talking to Lydia for a while," Peter says from behind him, moving closer to peer over his shoulder at them._ _

__Derek makes a noncommittal noise around his beer bottle, trying to seem less interested than he is. He can't help it, he feels weirdly loyal to Laura and she would hate it if she knew they were talking about her. "Only forty minutes," he says._ _

__It's definitely the wrong thing to say._ _

__Peter side-eyes him, Derek can feel it. "And everyone calls _me_ the creepy one," he says judgingly before slipping away again. _ _

__Derek ignores him and finishes his beer._ _

__+_ _

__When Derek wakes up the next morning, someone's looming over his bed._ _

__His first instinct is to roll away from the danger, like he's some kind of action hero, but he forgets that he's in his old twin bed at his mom's place and almost rolls right off it._ _

__The high-pitched laughter is what makes him immediately relax, because this used to happen all the time when they were kids. Derek has never known whether to berate his sister or admire her dedication._ _

__"Laura," he mutters, attempting to fight his way out of the covers where they've twisted around him. "How I've missed living in the same house as you."_ _

__"Yes, the soothing soundtrack of snores emanating from your room has always created fond memories for me, too." She jumps on the bed beside him, literally jumps, landing on her knees and then flopping over his thighs. "It's weird, being back here."_ _

__Derek shoves her over, somehow managing to arrange them both so they're squeezed on the bed next to each other. "Yeah."_ _

__"Imagine all the times you masturbated in this very bed," Laura muses._ _

__Derek kicks her, but she's ready for it and grabs his leg between hers, and Derek works out but Laura plays dirty. She goes straight for his balls, just like she has since she was ten and she 'accidentally' figured out how much it would hurt him._ _

__"Okay okay okay, I submit!" he cries, yanking his leg back when she finally unclamps her thighs. "I'd ask why the hell you're so keen to feel me up but I don't think I wanna know."_ _

__"Oh yeah, speaking of intrusive questions, what were you doing in here with Stiles last night?" She smirks, eyebrows bouncing suggestively. "Was it something salacious?"_ _

__They both know he really had wanted to do something salacious with Stiles last night. It's not his fault Stiles is both pretty and witty, aka the rhyming combination that is his kryptonite, and to hold him accountable would be unfair. But that wouldn't stop Laura from doing it anyway._ _

__Deflect, Derek thinks. Just deflect. "You spent more time talking to Lydia than I did to Stiles," he says. "What'd you guys talk about?"_ _

__Laura stills, body going completely tense. "She has lots of interesting things to say," she says carefully, then pauses. "About TiMERS."_ _

__Derek snorts. "I'm sure she does."_ _

__"She does!" Laura smacks his arm. "She was talking about… There's this…" she trails off in frustration._ _

__Derek rolls over onto his side to look at her properly. "Tell me," he says softly._ _

__"Have you ever thought about having your TiMER removed?" She all but blurts it out, immediately looking away again before Derek can get a lock on her expression, leaving him reeling._ _

__"I…"_ _

__Derek… has no idea what to say. The truth is, he's never, ever contemplated getting his TiMER off. He hadn't known it was a possibility, hadn't even thought about it, until his junior year of college. One of his roommates, fresh from a breakup, determined that his ex was the only one for him, had asked Derek to drive him to the mall. They'd ended up at a TiMER removal booth before Derek had even known what was happening, and Derek had felt guilty for days, convinced that his mom would just _know_ he'd assisted in it somehow and would be so _disappointed_._ _

__"Who am I kidding, of course you haven't, you've got way too much of mom's 'this is my cross to bear' mentality in you," Laura says, like she can read his mind._ _

__He frowns. "Are _you_ thinking about getting it removed?"_ _

__"No," she says, too quickly. Like she's trying to convince herself. "Of course not, mom would flip, it's not worth it. Lydia just mentioned the Argents run a removal booth, that's all."_ _

__"Of course they do," Derek says, shaking his head._ _

__"Because somehow our little sister's soulmate is the daughter of evil incarnate," Laura agrees._ _

__"Ah yes, this supportiveness. It's just what I've been missing all along," comes a voice from the doorway, and they both sit up to find Cora hovering there, looking contemptuous as usual._ _

__Laura cringes, mortified at being caught out. Derek feels guilty too, but for him it's because of the betrayed look in Cora's eyes—almost like she's caught him with a lover. It's always like this, when Cora sees Derek and Laura doing sibling-things that she's not part of. Laura either ignores it or doesn't even notice, but Derek can tell Cora is always more affected by it than she pretends he is._ _

__He's thought about fixing it, but he has no idea how. Cora's never really seemed receptive to any kind of olive branch. Even now, Cora just grabs Derek's old Nerf ball from his desk and throws it at them, hitting Laura in the stomach._ _

__"I'm going to see my sinister soulmate. Mom wants the both of you downstairs," she says curtly, then stomps out of the room._ _

__"The morning after clean up, my favourite Hale tradition," Derek mutters, heaving himself over Laura and out of the bed._ _

__Laura sighs, throwing the ball up against the headboard and catching it again. "You know she isn't even going to see Allison, right? She just knew mom would give her a free pass if she said it."_ _

__"Let her have the free pass, Laura." He grabs the ball mid air. "You're gonna need her to return the favour one day. You know, for when you're fifty and you're Timing Out."_ _

__Laura lets out a strangled laugh._ _

__Derek doesn't have time to ask her about it before their mom is calling for them herself, and Laura is hurrying out of the room._ _

__+_ _

__A few days later, at the behest of his mom, Derek hosts another dinner at his place. The difference is that now, with Allison and all of her friends painstakingly invited, the number of attendees has practically doubled._ _

__Derek is just grateful that his loft is open plan, with the spacious living and dining areas flowing into one another, or not everyone would fit. Jordan is working, so that's one less person, and Allison doesn't have _that_ many friends, but they're all it takes to make Derek feel claustrophobic in his own apartment and he resolves to spend most of his time hiding out in the kitchen._ _

__Derek is especially happy with this decision when Stiles arrives. His entrance this time isn't nearly dramatic as at the party, but noticeable all the same because he's the last one to arrive. Derek's busy trying not to stress out too much about his unpredictable oven to answer the door, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye—a flash of bright blue uniform. By the time Derek makes it out to the living room, platter of mini quiches in hand, Stiles is spread out across his armchair, dozing even though Boyd put on the Arctic Monkeys up loud enough that everyone has to raise their voices to be heard._ _

__For a second, Derek's confused, because if Erica isn't in his armchair then where is she? But then he turns to see her leaning against the wall as Scott talks to her earnestly about something, glaring at Stiles in a way that would strike fear into the very essence of his being… if he weren't asleep. Putting the platter down on the dinner table, Derek starts towards Stiles, to tell him to go home or something, he's not really sure, but then Lydia sidles up to the chair and pokes Stiles hard in the head. He flails upright, blinking and staring, and Lydia rolls her eyes and shoves him over, squeezing onto the seat next to him. Derek watches them for a moment, sharing space so casually, before he goes back into the kitchen._ _

__Cora's there, with Allison, leaning into the fridge to pull out two beers. Derek frowns, but Allison just nudges her and raises her eyebrows, and Cora sighs and puts one back, pulling out a Coke instead._ _

__"Just what I always wanted in a soulmate, someone else to mother me," she snipes, passing over the alcohol, but Derek knows her well enough to recognise her tone. It's fond. Fond and amused, but still a little challenging._ _

__"Just practicing for the future, dear," Allison says, fluttering her eyelashes, simpering prettily. "How many kids is your mom demanding we have, again?"_ _

__"Five hundred wouldn't be enough for her," Cora mutters. She's having fun too, Derek can tell. He hasn't seen this side of Cora for a long time, since before teen angst took pride of place in her repertoire. When they were kids she was much easier to play and joke with. Derek's glad that she's found someone who seems to complement that side of her so well._ _

__It's almost too strange, seeing her like this, seeing this softer side Derek had thought was gone. But then Isaac barges past Derek and over to the fridge too, and Cora realises they're not alone, and she punches Isaac on the arm for no reason._ _

__Derek is relieved. Not a completely different sister, then._ _

__Before Cora can realise he was watching her—he's been on the receiving end of those punches, she knows where to aim so that they _bruise_ —Derek heads back over to the oven, checking on the cheese and bacon pinwheels._ _

__"—to come help me," Isaac is saying. "Boyd's letting Erica choose the music next and—"_ _

__But before he can finish the sentence, the music stops, there's a quiet pause, and then something else comes on. Something death metal-esque. Derek cringes. He is definitely going to have to use the stairs for the next few weeks to avoid the wrath of his disapproving neighbours. It'll work—Derek is thirty years younger than the the second youngest person in the whole building. No one else even looks at the stairs._ _

__He turns to Cora, about to plead with her himself, but she's already glaring and yanking Isaac out of the room after her. Derek barely has time to exchange a helpless glance with Allison before the music changes _again_ , back to the hipster indie stuff Boyd prides himself on favouring._ _

__"So…" Derek says awkwardly, grabbing a beer of his own. "How's it going?"_ _

__Allison rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too. "Very smooth," she says, then shrugs. "I'm fine. We're fine. It's a process."_ _

__"Yeah, yeah, it would be." Derek nods rapidly, drumming his fingers on his bottle. He lifts it to his mouth, but he apparently hasn't taken the lid off yet and it clinks against his teeth._ _

__Because he's a social loser, Allison not only notices but also hands him the bottle opener. But because Allison seems like a decent person, she ignores it and changes the subject._ _

__"So," she says, turning to face him better. "Cora tells me you speak French?"_ _

__It's a pity topic, Derek knows, because he has the most boring job in the world and no one ever really wants to talk about it, but he latches onto it with probably embarrassing desperation anyway. "Yeah, and a couple others. I'm a translator."_ _

__" _She mentioned that as well_ ," Allison says, smiling wryly. It takes him a moment, but then he realises she actually said it in French._ _

__" _You speak French_?" he asks, surprised but pleased._ _

__" _Evidently_ ," Allison says. " _Just another way your sister will never be entirely rid of her family like she wants_."_ _

__Derek snorts. " _She only thinks she wants it._ " He pauses, trying to think of something more to say, before asking, " _How did you learn_?"_ _

__" _My family comes from France, I grew up learning it. I'm studying to teach it_ ," she explains. " _And physical education_."_ _

__" _You're volunteering to spend time with teenagers? You're braver than I—_ "_ _

__"Wait, you speak _French_ too?" someone asks loudly in English, interrupting him. Derek looks up to Stiles staring at him, empty tumbler dangling from his fingers, eyes a little glazed._ _

__"No, he was just making noises and I was indulging him," Allison says, grinning._ _

__Stiles ignores her, totally focused on Derek. "How many languages do you _speak_?" he asks urgently, stepping closer._ _

__"Only four," Derek says. He wonders where Stiles is going with this. He looks shocked but Derek isn't sure why—most of his colleagues can speak at least six._ _

__" _What_?"_ _

__"Well five, including English," he elaborates. Stiles is still staring, open-mouthed. Derek shifts and exchanges another glance with Allison._ _

__"Stiles," she says gently, "are you having a stroke?"_ _

__"Five," he repeats tonelessly. And then puts his glass down, already turning away. "Excuse me, I have to be not here."_ _

__"Why do I feel like he's always running away from me?" Derek mutters. He's not really directing the question at Allison, but she answers anyway._ _

__"Probably because he wants you to watch him leave," she says, patting him on the shoulder._ _

__+_ _

__Half an hour later, Derek's beginning to think there's some merit to Allison's comment._ _

__Also, he wants to _kill_ Stiles._ _

__He's not sure what Stiles got from their conversation in the kitchen, but whatever it was Stiles is now acting like the horniest person alive. Whenever Derek looks over at him, he's doing something sexual. And not in any accidental, natural ways either. He's being so blatant Boyd keeps giving him weird looks and Lydia's moved to the opposite end of the room in disgust._ _

__Not that Stiles notices them. He's too busy making Fuck Me eyes at Derek._ _

__First, it's just the looks. Heated stares across the room. Then, Stiles' tongue suddenly emerges, and gets dragged across _everything_ Stiles touches—rims of glasses, tines of cutlery, tips of toothpicks, pads of fingertips, and most memorably the entire surface area of a carrot._ _

__Derek didn't even know he _had_ carrots._ _

__After that comes sexy slouching, then dancing that really shouldn't be sexy but is, then sexy face-touching, and finally Derek's patience is shot. Glaring isn't getting through to him, so Derek waits until everyone is distracted by a story Scott and Kira are telling. He stalks over to Stiles, grabs his arm and yanks him down the hallway before he or anyone else can protest._ _

__"You're so inappropriate," he grits out, hauling Stiles into his room, shoving him against the door as it closes._ _

__He only gets a glimpse of Stiles' surprised face, his squeak of, "Dude, what—"_ _

__And then Derek leans in and kisses him._ _

__It's a terrible idea. For so many reasons. The reasons are just very hard to think of when Stiles' warm body presses up along his._ _

__When he pulls back, Stiles is staring at him, slack-mouthed. "Dude, whoa, seriously?"_ _

__"Make a habit of calling me any kind of fratbro nickname and my mouth is never going near your mouth again," Derek warns. "I didn't enjoy it when I _was_ a fratbro and I definitely don't enjoy it now."_ _

__"Wait, _you_ were a— you know what, never mind, just—" He snaps his mouth shut, before making a production of miming locking his lips and putting the key in his pocket._ _

__Derek rolls his eyes and kisses him again. It's pretty chaste, at first. Derek feels uncomfortable starting immediately with tongue, likes to work his way up to it. The only problem is, when he tries to do that with Stiles, Stiles won't let him, instead immediately rearing backwards and slamming his head into the door._ _

__Derek's hands flutter towards Stiles' skull before he can stop them, ready to inspect for injuries, but then he realises he might not be welcome and dithers, arms hovering awkwardly in the air._ _

__Stiles just rolls his eyes, reaches into his pocket, pulls out… nothing, and brings his fingers to his lips, miming the locking motion again and sighing in relief. "Achievement unlocked," he says cheekily, and before Derek can react he hauls Derek back in, tongue slipping into his mouth immediately._ _

__+_ _

__Derek isn't sure how long they make out for. It's hard to keep track of time with Stiles Stilinski's tongue in his mouth and hands on his neck, while holding Stiles Stilinski's ass in his palms. It's long enough for Derek's lips to get sore, and for them to move over to the bed because Stiles hits his head on the door at least three more times. It's long enough for Derek to start feeling heady enough to want to engage in sexual acts with Stiles Stilinski even though their closest friends are in the next room._ _

__It's long enough for Laura to come looking for them, barging into Derek's room loudly enough to startle Stiles. He yelps and flails off his perch on Derek's stomach, over the side of the bed and onto the floor._ _

__Derek would like to know how Laura keeps managing to inspire these reactions in people, because it seems to definitely come in handy for her._ _

__"Derek, have you seen St—" She cuts herself off as Stiles peeks out from behind the bed, and takes in Derek's unbuttoned shirt and ruffled hair. She blinks._ _

__Derek tenses, not even daring to look at Stiles._ _

__Laura's smirks, raises her eyebrows at Derek, and then very quickly trains her focus on Stiles. "Oh good," she says airily, moving further into the room, grabbing Stiles' hand and yanking him up. "Lydia says you're an expert on circumcision, we need you to settle an argument." She adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, straightens his hair, and starts to drag him out of the room._ _

__It's a disturbing thing to hear, and Derek knows he's gonna get it from Laura later, but right now he's still too overwhelmed to react much as Stiles trips down the hall after Laura, frantically miming "Call me!" as they go._ _

__And then after that, he and Stiles don't get to talk privately again for the rest of the night. Laura makes sure of it._ _

__+_ _

__Derek doesn't call Stiles._ _

__Mainly because he doesn't actually have his number, but also because Stiles calls him before he gets the chance. It's a number he doesn't know, but in his gut, Derek _knows_ anyway._ _

__"So basically, this is the precursor to a booty call," Stiles says, as soon as Derek swipes 'accept' and brings the phone to his ear. "It's a booty call call. A call for you to bring your booty here. To me. So I can touch it. And also other things."_ _

__"...Hello Stiles," Derek says. He's not even gonna ask how Stiles got his number. They have far too many people in common now._ _

__"Okay fine, hello Derek, how are you, awesome weather we've been having, small talk small talk, also would you like to come over to my apartment so our booties can rub together?"_ _

__Derek sighs._ _

__He thinks._ _

__He sighs again._ _

__"What's your address?"_ _

__+_ _

__The first thing Stiles does after he hauls Derek inside is drop to his knees and rub his face on Derek's crotch._ _

__"Uh…" Derek says, startled. "Hi?"_ _

__Stiles grunts, really digging his stupid-shaped nose into the zipper._ _

__"Doesn't that—"_ _

__'Doesn't that hurt', he was going to say, because Stiles is being very rough with his own face, but then he starts breathing right on Derek's dick, and Derek forgets every word in every language he knows. His hands fly forward to steady himself on Stiles' broad shoulders._ _

__Stiles finally pulls back. "Okay no, I get it," he says, smiling slowly, dirty but also tender somehow. "It walks like a sex god, it dresses like a sex god, it glares like a sex god, but actually it's a little awkward turtle in a cool jacket. Which sounds like a gross way of describing an uncut penis but it's not."_ _

__Derek thinks about addressing that. Derek doesn't. "So?"_ _

__"Sooooo," Stiles says, simultaneously undoing Derek's zipper, "I'm pretty sure I just became a thousand times more attracted to you. Which, you know, brings my attraction tally to infinity plus a thousand. Highest on record." He shuffles Derek's jeans down his hips a bit then reaches into his boxer briefs, carefully pulling out Derek's dick. Stiles wraps his hand around it, loose, thumb gently stroking, and Derek has to squeeze his eyes shut. "Okay, upon further reflection, it seems as though I underestimated your attractiveness," Stiles breathes. "It's much closer to infinity plus one thousand to the power of infinity. Fuck, dude, your dick is just…"_ _

__And then his tongue is sliding over the head of Derek's dick and neither of them say anything of substance again for quite a while._ _

__+_ _

__Afterwards, Derek can't get comfortable. He and Stiles are lying side by side on their stomachs in the low lamplight, arms nestled under their pillows, but Derek's TiMER is digging right into his cheek. He tries shifting sideways. It's still irritating. With a sigh, Derek pulls his arms out and shifts around onto his side. Stiles grabs his TiMER wrist before he can settle again properly. He waggles it, making Derek's hand flop up and down._ _

__"You hate it too, don't you?" he asks quietly. Intimately, like it's a secret. Like Derek can tell him anything. Derek’s not entirely sure what to do with that._ _

__"It's a love/hate relationship," he admits finally._ _

__"Okay, next question: if your mom hadn't forced you get one, would you have?"_ _

__Derek tries to imagine it. Tries to imagine a world where his mom never lectured him about the importance of TiMERs as a kid, never sat their whole family down to watch TiMER rom coms weekly, never wrote TiMER romance novels, never set up a countdown to the TiMER ceremony that seemed even more important to her than his actual eighteenth birthday. "That's impossible for me to answer," he says eventually._ _

__"Why is your mom so passionate about TiMERs? My mom liked them too, but yours kind of…" He hesitates, but then, in what Derek's has quickly learned is typical Stiles fashion, barrels on. "Well, the word 'cult-ish' comes to mind. Or it would, if it was actually a word."_ _

__He frowns. "She's not that bad. She just wants what's best for us."_ _

__Stiles drops his hand. He rolls away and sits up against the headboard, gathering the sheets around him. "So, okay, awesome, but _you_ don't want it. Why haven't _you_ just had it taken off? Wouldn't you rather just live your life without worrying about a soulmate that might never even happen?"_ _

__"I think I'll always be worrying about a soulmate," Derek says, frowning. "I think I'll be always wondering if someone better will come along, and that's unfair for a future partner."_ _

__"But this is unfair on you," Stiles points out. "Why do that to yourself?"_ _

__He shrugs. "I'm okay, Stiles. I'm not going without. Obviously." He slides a hand over and pinches at Stiles' nipple. Stiles squawks and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring, but Derek drags him closer, rocks into him a little, runs his fingers over Stiles' own TiMER. "What about you? If anyone was gonna get it taken off, I'd have thought it would be you."_ _

__"Ah, but that would defeat the purpose of getting it in the first place. Ethel would go right back to pitying me, and we both know how pathetic that feels." Stiles shifts, gently drawing his arm out of Derek's reach. Something about it feels tense, suddenly uncomfortable, but the moment is gone again quickly and Derek chooses to let it go. Stiles obviously has his own reasons for getting the TiMER, and Derek's not sure they know each other well enough yet to delve too deep into any psyches._ _

__He shakes his head, then lunges up and rolls Stiles over and separates his legs in one smooth shove. He slides three fingers carefully back into Stiles, which marks an ending to the conversation that both of them are quite happy to put an end to._ _

__+_ _

__Derek ends up at the grocery store much more than he would like after that. Stiles really does work a lot, and sometimes the only time they have to fool around is on his break. On their fourth rendezvous in just as many days, Stiles is really distracted, barely looking up from his phone. Derek tries not to be too annoyed._ _

__"Stiles, kissing is a two-person sport," he says, very annoyed. "Unless your phone has suddenly been granted the ability to indulge in foreplay with you, I'd advise you put it away now."_ _

__"Sorry sorry sorry," Stiles says, tongue poking out as his thumbs dart over the keyboard, pressing send, turning it off and slipping it in his pocket with a flourish. He wraps his arms back around Derek's neck, shifting on his lap, glancing around them again to make sure they're still tucked out of sight, in a tiny alcove in the back alley behind the store. "I love your mouth, I promise, it's just my friend Heather's supposed to Time Out today and she's freaking out."_ _

__Derek nods distractedly, leans in to nuzzle against the moles on Stiles' jawline that he can't resist anymore. "How long has she got?" He's not really interested, but Stiles seems to like making out and chatting at the same time, and he needs something to talk about._ _

__"Hmm," Stiles hums, tilting his head, "like a minute?"_ _

__Derek frowns. "I think Jordan's Timing Out today too," he says. He vaguely remembers Laura saying that Jordan was nervous because it was happening soon, but generally Derek doesn't really concern himself with Jordan's business—he comes to dinners at Derek's apartment when he's not on shift, but that's mainly because he's friends with Laura and Boyd. Derek and Jordan have never really bonded in any meaningful way._ _

__"Dude, Jordan, seriously?" Stiles pulls back, climbing off Derek's lap completely to stare at him. "Do you think they… No, right? That's way too..." Stiles stares at Derek for a moment in awe, then scrabbles at his pocket and yanks out his phone._ _

__"Don't tell her," Derek blurts, unable to stop himself. No matter what happens, Timing Out is a meaningful thing, and he hates the idea of it being ruined for anyone._ _

__For once, Stiles seems to actually agree with him, looking scandalised at the very notion. "I would never! Heather's probably as much of a romantic as you, she wants this experience as pure and unadulterated as poss—" His phone beeps, and his mouth drops open as he reads the message. "The girl I've known since I was three, the girl I used to take baths with, is soulmates with Jordan freakin' Parrish."_ _

__"This is ridiculous," Derek says._ _

__Stiles launches into a ear-splitting rendition of 'It's A Small World After All'. Derek suspects he only knows it because it was in The Lion King._ _

__+_ _

__Over the next couple of weeks, Derek hardly sees Stiles at all. There's a lot of preparation to be done for Heather's Time Out party and she wants him to be available at all times to 'help' (which, according to his increasingly aggravated texts, predominantly involves being used as her lackey)._ _

__Derek misses him more than he thought he would._ _

__It's not just the orgasms either, because by this point they're experts at scheduling clandestine, back-alley hand and/or blow jobs during Stiles' breaks at work. Derek actually misses… _Stiles_. He wants to hear him talk shit about everyone he knows, to share meals with him and watch baseball, to cuddle with him for more than ten seconds after sex._ _

__He kind of really likes Stiles, and no one can ever know._ _

__So, Derek distracts himself. He powers through a bunch of translating—it's surprisingly easy to stomach the content of his mom's books when he's not so focused on his own miserable love life. He goes for long runs. He makes time for his friends—Erica has been complaining that they haven't seen him in ages, and she's right. He's been too focused on his siblings (and Stiles). He goes bowling with Boyd and Isaac, joins a kickboxing class with Erica. Erica is suspicious and seems convinced that he's seeing someone, because he can't seem to stop checking his phone, but he blames it on his mom and a made-up deadline._ _

__He considers seeing Braeden—she messages him asking if he wants to hang out, and he really contemplates it, he wants to so badly, if only to prove something to himself. But he turns it down and goes to the movies with Erica and Boyd instead, a third wheel on their date, but they don't seem to mind._ _

__The only people he doesn't really see are his sisters. It leaves him feeling untethered and unsettled. He can't remember the last time he went a few days without seeing at least one of them, let alone more than a week. But Cora seems well and truly still enamoured with Allison, if her Instagram posts are anything to go by, and Laura has been acting strangely. Every time he messages her, he gets only an emoji in return and she wasn't home the one time he tried to visit her. He doesn't try to call, because they both hate speaking on the phone and they both decided years ago that phone calls between them are only to be used in an emergency._ _

__Finally, exactly two days after her last message to him (an eggplant emoji) she shows up at his front door._ _

__He can't help his grin as he goes in for a hug, relief coursing through him, but she doesn't reciprocate._ _

__Derek frowns and pulls back. "Hey," he says._ _

__She doesn't answer, just pushes past him, drops her bag on the couch and stands stiffly beside it, fists clenched._ _

__"Okay," Derek says, closing the door gently, feeling like she'll get spooked if he isn't careful. "What's—"_ _

__"I'm getting my TiMER removed."_ _

__Derek freezes. He blinks. He's not even sure that he's heard her properly, because did she just…? Did his sister just say…? "You… what?"_ _

__"I'm going to get rid of my TiMER, and I want you to come with me."_ _

__Derek… can't process anything she's telling him. All he can do is stare. "Laura, I… _what_?"_ _

__"I'm not happy, Derek! I hate this thing!" She waves her TiMER wrist at him, flinging it around in his face. "I hate the idea that we have to wait to be happy! Like the only way we can have a decent life is by finding a soulmate, and if we don't then we're destined to have a shit future, and if we do then that automatically means our lives have to be perfect with no problems and it's just— It's such bullshit! I can't do it anymore!" She runs her hands wildly through her hair and Derek thinks she might be slowing down, but then she whirls around and adds, " _And_ , I hate that everyone's solution for the interim is just getting laid. I don't even think I like sex! I did it once, and I didn't like it. I don't think about it, I've never looked at _anyone_ and ever thought of having sex with them, I look at people and think, 'I wonder if you feel as trapped by this society's soul-crushing obsession with the idea of forever as I do'. Which, according to the internet, that means I'm asexual as well as being a fucking crypt keeper of a soulmate, so wow, that's really something to look forward to."_ _

__"If it's your soulmate then they'd understand—"_ _

__"I don't want them to understand! I don't... I don't even _want_ a soulmate. I'm sorry Derek, I know you think it's all romantic and beautiful but I don't. I hate it, I hate everything about it."_ _

__"Laura, what's…" Derek shakes his head. "Where is this coming from suddenly?"_ _

__"This is not… This is so far from sudden, I just couldn't talk to you about it before. I don't even wanna be talking to you about it now, but Stiles said—"_ _

__"Wait, so Stiles _did_ tell you to get it removed? This is coming from him?"_ _

__"It's coming from me," she says sharply. "It's coming from me because I've had enough. Sometimes I think getting a TiMER was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I miss pre-TiMER life more than I miss dad."_ _

__Derek recoils. He stares at his sister, at this person he thinks he knows so well. Apparently, he has no idea._ _

__"Laura," he says quietly. "It's okay. You don't have to do this, this is a huge step! There's a lot of wiggle room here, you don't have to start somewhere so extreme—"_ _

__"No, you know what's extreme? It's thinking that we don't get a say in our own lives, that some tiny little watch is the only thing that can dictate our happiness. I say fuck that. I've put my life on hold for ten years for this thing. I'm not doing it anymore."_ _

__He tries a different tactic, desperate. "But Mom—"_ _

__"I've done a lot of shit for mom. You have too. I'm doing this for me." She strides over to him, grabs his hand before he can even react. She squeezes it hard, looks at him imploringly. "Come with me."_ _

__Derek freezes. "I… me?" he asks weakly._ _

__"I'm not telling you to get yours off too, just come with me. I want you there when I do it."_ _

__"Laura, I'm—" Derek shakes his head. He can barely keep up with what she's been saying, which is most likely how she planned it. But one thing does occur to him. "This isn't just about you, though. What if your soulmate has been waiting for you, too? And you know they have, they've been waiting even longer than you! What if you get your TiMER off, and their TiMER stops, and they think their soulmate is dead?"_ _

__Laura stares at him. "Are you honestly trying to guilt me about this person I've never even met? I don't owe them a single fucking thing! It's their fault for being unavailable until we're in nursing homes, _I'm_ right here, I have _nothing_ else going on, _literally nothing_."_ _

__"But don't you owe to yourself to—"_ _

__"Don't you _dare_ ," she hisses. "I can't believe— Are you seriously not on my side?"_ _

__"I…" And the truth is, for the first time in his life he _isn't_ on her side. Not even a little. He has no idea how they got to this point, to this place where Derek can't be there for unconditionally, and he _hates_ it. "I just really think you should talk to mom about this first," he hedges finally. "She's gonna be devastated."_ _

__Laura drops his hand. She looks so disappointed in him. "Well, Derek, maybe that's just something we'll all have to live with."_ _

__She leaves._ _

__Derek drops into the couch and squeezes his eyes shut._ _

__+_ _

__Laura's been gone for twenty minutes by the time Derek's brain seems to finish rehashing and interpreting everything she said to him, and at the end of it one major thing stands out—this is all Stiles' fault._ _

__Of course._ _

__Before he can think about it anymore, he edges his phone out of his pocket and thumbs open his texting app._ _

___Come over. Now_ he sends to Stiles._ _

__He gets no immediate response, which is a little odd, but a few minutes later Stiles texts, _your wish is my command_ , and almost immediately afterwards there's a loud knock on Derek's door. Derek stalks over and yanks it open, rebuke already on the tip of his tongue, but Stiles is on him, kissing him, grabbing his ass before he say a thing._ _

__"Oh thank fucking god," Stiles groans against his mouth, slipping one hand up to run through Derek's hair and the other down underneath his waistband. "I was already on my way here when you messaged, god, this is the longest I've gone without touching you in forever, I thought I was gonna _die_. Our moms were best friends, but I would quite happily push Heather in front of a train for some time off from her and her mom, shit." He tries to nudge Derek in the direction of the bedroom, but then he finally seems to notice Derek's inaction. In a sick, almost-parody of the interaction Derek just had with Laura, Stiles frowns and pulls back. "Are you okay?" he asks, running his fingertips down to caress Derek's cheekbone._ _

__Derek carefully separates them, lifting Stiles' hands off his body and backing off, getting space between them. "I had a fight with Laura," he says, testing the waters. If Stiles tries to lie to him or tries to deny his involvement, Derek wants to be able to look him in the eye, to really—_ _

__"Oh, so she finally told you about her TiMER removal?" he asks coolly, indifferently, like he isn't just casually talking about destroying a _life_. He closes the door behind him and moves further into the room. "I hooked her up at the Argent's booth. I tried to get her a booking with Allison's cousin, 'cause not gonna lie, anyone but Allison's mom would be fine. Her mom has no mercy dude, people have walked away with bruises… Hey, what's wrong?"_ _

__Derek stares at him. He can't believe— how is Stiles so— "This was _your_ doing?"_ _

__Stiles snorts. "My _doing _? I'm not a cartoon villain."___ _

____"But you, you encouraged her? You facilitated her?"_ _ _ _

____"She had questions, I answered them, she wanted details, I provided them. I didn't tell her anything she couldn't have looked up online, I was totally, completely unbiased, promise." He grins, but it fades quickly as he seems to sense Derek's rising rage._ _ _ _

____"Bullshit! You've never been unbiased about TiMERs in the whole time I've known you!"_ _ _ _

____"Yeah because knowing someone for like a month means you know everything about them, right?"_ _ _ _

____"Everything meaningful! I know you hate TiMERs for some reason, I know you don't respect them, or the people—most of the population, by the way—who choose to wear them! I know you seem to have something against romance—"_ _ _ _

____"Romance!" Stiles snorts, stepping back to lean against the wall and rub his hand over his face. "I wish! Oh my god, it's just a business, Derek. TiMERs may have started off as something beautiful, this magical discovery, but in the end it's all about profits and losses, just like everything else. You of all people should be familiar with how people make money from promoting the TiMER rhetoric." He hesitates, eyes flicking down to Derek's TiMER, but then continues, "And the things they don't tell you, like how it's not always a fairy tale."_ _ _ _

____"Maybe a Brothers Grimm version," Derek says insistently, before he can stop himself. He doesn't let Stiles have time to respond to that, because he just knows he'll have some smart-ass answer, so instead he says, "If you really feel that way about TiMERs, why do you even have one? I mean the real reason, not some shit about conforming, because I'm pretty sure you've never given a fuck about conforming in your life." He stalks forward and grabs Stiles' TiMER arm, pinning it up against the wall. "You hate everything about TiMER culture."_ _ _ _

____"Actually, both my parents had TiMERs, they came out around the time of their tenth anniversary. It was how they celebrated—they got them together, and then Timed Out together, just like they knew they would." His eyes harden, and he snatches his arm back. "It didn't stop my mom from dying, it just meant my dad mourned so hard he became an alcoholic. And you know what, Scott's parents had TiMERs too. Scott's dad was still an abusive asshole. Allison's parents don't have a TiMER, but they're the happiest albeit grossest couple I know. Scott and Kira have an awesome relationship, and they'll never know if they're soulmates or not, and guess what? _It doesn't matter_." He narrows his eyes. "Actually, here's a question. Do you actually know anyone with a TiMER who's living this fabled 'perfect' life?" _ _ _ _

____"Peter," Derek says immediately, although he hates himself for it._ _ _ _

____Stiles pulls a face. "Right, okay, Uncle Peter, sure, let's put him on the list. Who else?"_ _ _ _

____"Erica and Boyd," he says triumphantly._ _ _ _

____"Awesome, I'm happy for them. Who else?"_ _ _ _

____Derek opens his mouth._ _ _ _

____He shuts it again._ _ _ _

____How the fuck can he not think of anyone he knows in real life who is Timed Out and happy? They definitely exist, he knows they do. Timed Out couples are everywhere._ _ _ _

____"What about Cora and Allison?" he offers finally, but it's weak and he knows it. "They seem to be doing fine."_ _ _ _

____"They're in their honeymoon period," Stiles says dismissively._ _ _ _

____Derek's hackles rise, like they always do when someone disparages his family. Never mind the fact that he was the one to bring them up. "So you _want_ their relationship to fail?"_ _ _ _

____Stiles throws his hands up in the air, groaning frustratedly. "Oh my god, I never said that! I just want the people I love to find and be with the people _they_ love just _because_ , not to live their lives governed by some stupid countdown!" _ _ _ _

____"But all the TiMER does is help, how can—"_ _ _ _

____"Help? Really? Has it helped you?" Stiles levels a look at him, eyes glittering. "Or Laura? Or hell, even… your mom? Cora might end up happy but she didn't even want a TiMER! I guess I just don't see why your family insists on keeping this ridiculous pro-TiMER like, like _cult status_ when you've never actually benefited from them at all! It's unhealthy!" His mouth snaps shut then, like he knows he's gone too far, and his shoulders slump._ _ _ _

____Derek has no idea why he even asked Stiles to come over. He knew what would happen, why he was expecting anything more? "Get. Out."_ _ _ _

____Stiles nods resignedly. "Yeah. Yeah, I figured."_ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek hides for a while._ _ _ _

____He stays home, puts his phone on silent and ignores everything and everyone and takes a Time Out. He goes from one of the most prolific periods of his life to one of the least in only one day, and it's all Stiles' fault. As usual._ _ _ _

____His mom calls, at least once day for five days, but he can't bring himself to answer. He'll only feel guilty and accidentally tell her about Laura._ _ _ _

____Laura messages him only once. He ignores that too._ _ _ _

____He just sits on his couch, rewatches old episodes of Friends even though he's never really liked Friends as much as the rest of his generation seems to, and distracts himself from seeing Stiles in Chandler by hating Ross instead._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____At 7.13am on the Sunday morning that marks the one week anniversary of Derek sequestering himself away, there's a series of loud thumps on his front door._ _ _ _

____He knows immediately who it is. Cora is the only one who knocks like she's escaping from a horde of zombies eager to gorge on her flesh _every single time_ she visits._ _ _ _

____He briefly debates just ignoring her. He's barely awake, hunched in front of the coffee maker, willing it to work faster, but she's still knocking as the time on his microwave display tips over to 7.15am and she'll probably keep going for the next half hour if he doesn't do something about it._ _ _ _

____Groaning, he tears himself away from the coffee and drags himself to the door, unlatching it and wrenching it open. He attempts to glare at his little sister, but his facial features don't seem to want to work yet._ _ _ _

____"We're going for a run," Cora says, pushing past him, dumping a backpack on the floor and throwing herself on the couch. She looks sweaty already, her workout shirt sticking to her body and sliding across the leather couch._ _ _ _

____Derek forces himself not to say anything about it. "Did you run _here_?"_ _ _ _

____She ignores him, slinging an arm over her eyes. "Hurry up. I need the punishing exercise and I need it now."_ _ _ _

____Derek hovers for a minute, thinking longingly of the laid back morning he had planned, before caving and going to get changed._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____They naturally head towards the Preserve, falling into the rhythm they've perfected over the past few years._ _ _ _

____They used to come to the Preserve a lot more often, before Cora was born, when his mom still owned some of the land. They'd have picnics mostly, and Derek and Laura would play and explore, pretend they were wild animals roaming the forest. Then they got older, and Cora was born, and their dad died. His mom had to sell the land and they moved further into town, and the Preserve became less of a priority in their lives. In her sophomore year Cora decided she wanted to try out for the basketball team and she and Derek have been running together ever since, but more recently she's been doing everything with Allison._ _ _ _

____Derek wonders why there's no Allison today._ _ _ _

____Still, in keeping with tradition he doesn't ask, just settles into place to the left of and slightly behind her._ _ _ _

____They've only gone about four miles before Cora starts flagging._ _ _ _

____"You've been slacking with Allison," Derek says, slowing to a jog to allow her to as well. There's no way she'd initiate it herself._ _ _ _

____"Yeah well she doesn't run like we do," Cora puffs. "You push me more."_ _ _ _

____Derek smirks. "I remember the days when you would complain about us pushing you around."_ _ _ _

____"Yeah, because you were mostly trying to push your chores on me—"_ _ _ _

____"That was Laura, I never—"_ _ _ _

____"—and blame me for stuff!"_ _ _ _

____Derek can't deny that, not really. It's too bad their mom never believed him. In his own head he was getting away with murder. "It was always Laura's idea," he insists._ _ _ _

____"I know _that_ , you're not exactly an evil genius." She sniffs and looks him up and down. "Or any kind of genius."_ _ _ _

____He rolls his eyes and gives her a shove, pushing past her to race the last few yards to their favourite spot, a small clearing that's more dirt and sticks than anything else, and flopping onto his back. Cora joins him, dropping to lay at a ninety degree angle, their heads touching. Staring up through the canopy of branches overhead, the weak morning sun barely filtering through, Derek waits for Cora to say whatever it is she needs to say._ _ _ _

____"I had a fight with Allison," she mutters eventually. "A big one."_ _ _ _

____"A fight?" Derek echoes, unable to mask his surprise. Somehow, it's never really occurred to him that soulmates would have serious fights. Not ones they couldn't always come back from, anyway. Soulmates are supposed to _know_ each other. In his head, that's always meant that miscommunication and arguments would be rare._ _ _ _

____Cora groans, like she knows exactly he's thinking. "Yes Derek, a fight. Despite the bullshit mom feeds you, Timed Out couples are just like everyone else. We get angry at each other, we say stupid shit, and we feel really guilty about it afterwards."_ _ _ _

____Derek waits, but when she doesn't add anything more, the silence stretches out and into awkward territory. This is why he can't talk to Cora like he can to Laura—Laura's a talker, but he and Cora are both brooders, and two brooders can only hold a conversation for too long. And if he tries to ask her too many questions, she'll just shut down and not say _anything_. He knows, because that's what he would do._ _ _ _

____He clears his throat, forces himself to try. "So… What happened?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't know," Cora says blankly. "I left when I shouldn't have. I was awful to her family and then I yelled, like, screamed some really stupid shit, and I left, even though we both promised we wouldn't, and I'm not sure if I can come back from that."_ _ _ _

____Derek blinks. That's… He would say Cora is being dramatic, but he knows Cora's histrionics and they don't sound like this. She sounds serious in a way she rarely is, tone free of bored disdain for once. Instead it seems like she's actually, legitimately concerned._ _ _ _

____"I'm only eighteen, Derek," she blurts out, before he can respond. "I'm eighteen, I'm not even in college yet, I haven't even chosen a career, I have no idea, how am I supposed to settle down now? How do I love this person I've known for less than a month?"_ _ _ _

____Derek frowns, playing back her question. "Was that rhetorical?"_ _ _ _

____"What?"_ _ _ _

____"Are you asking how you're supposed to love her one day, or how you can already love her?" He rolls over to face her, to get a gauge on her, but she doesn't move at all, not even a twitch of the lips. "Because I don't think there's a set timeline for either."_ _ _ _

____"I just… I guess I don't understand how I'm supposed to feel about this. Everyone keeps telling me how lucky I am, and I look at you, and Laura, and I know I'm supposed to feel, like, blessed or whatever but… I just can't, because to me, right now, the idea of forever is ridiculous."_ _ _ _

____"Well, I still think it's beautiful," Derek says. This is another reason why he and Cora don't gel so well. He can't identify with her at all._ _ _ _

____"You've been reading too many of mom's books," Cora grumps._ _ _ _

____"That's what Stiles says, and it's just as unoriginal and as insulting as when he says it."_ _ _ _

____"Stiles doesn't count, he thinks everything TiMER-related is unromantic," she says dismissively._ _ _ _

____Derek snorts. "Whose side are you even on? Make up your mind."_ _ _ _

____Cora thumps a fist down into the earth and scrambles up. "I can't, that's the problem! What if Allison— What if I screw everything—"_ _ _ _

____"Cora," Derek says loudly. She's getting panicky. "Allison is literally perfect for you. She's your _soulmate_. That means she'll understand you, she'll still love you, if you communicate with her. Tell her how you're feeling."_ _ _ _

____"Are you seriously giving me advice about how to talk to my soulmate? You?"_ _ _ _

____"Just because I don't have one doesn't mean—"_ _ _ _

____"Shut the fuck up, I didn't mean it like that. I was not referring your defective TiMER status. I was referring to the fact that you barely know how to converse with anyone but Laura, but you're giving _me_ advice." She pauses, and he can feel her looking at him, but he refuses to help her with this. If she wants to say something, she can do it on her own. Surely enough, ten seconds later, she says, "I know you're fighting with her, by the way."_ _ _ _

____It takes Derek a few seconds to determine that she's referring to Laura, and he sighs. "We're not fighting, we're disagreeing."_ _ _ _

____"About her finally getting rid of her fucking hell spawn TiMER of Doom."_ _ _ _

____"She told you?"_ _ _ _

____"She told me first. Like, last week, after the party. She asked my advice."_ _ _ _

____"She asked _you_?"_ _ _ _

____"She's my sister too," Cora snaps. "And since I'm the only one of us to have actually had a functioning TiMER and find a soulmate, maybe she thought my opinion was valid for once."_ _ _ _

____"You opinion's always valid," he objects, but there's not much fight in it._ _ _ _

____She rolls her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Derek. We're not close. You and Laura are besties, that's cool, I could never compete with that and most of the time I don't want to. But I think maybe Laura came to me this time _because_ we're not close. I can offer her a different perspective than you, and that perspective is that she should do whatever the fuck will make her happy. She can't live out mom's dream, and you can't either. She's miserable, you're in denial about being miserable and fucking around instead—"_ _ _ _

____"And you're the one with the perfect life now, huh?"_ _ _ _

____"Fuck off, I have to see your face practically every day, my life is terrible."_ _ _ _

____Derek rolls his eyes, lazily slapping his hand out in the hopes he'll hit her. He misses. "So, what are you going to do now?"_ _ _ _

____"I'm gonna fix it," she says, like it's that simple._ _ _ _

____And maybe it is._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek finally goes back to grocery store._ _ _ _

____He's been avoiding it for far too long now, has been using the store on the other side of town instead, but he's glad to go back, if only because Stiles' store seems to be the only one in the whole of Beacon Hills that carries the cereal he likes._ _ _ _

____Stiles doesn't factor into his decision at all._ _ _ _

____Except for how Stiles seems to factor into _all_ of his decisions lately. Derek feels like he's constantly thinking about Stiles—wondering what he'd like, what he'd do, how he is, who he's with—somehow, Stiles wormed his way into Derek's brain and he's there constantly, in every waking moment, so much that it actually ends up being a relief to see him in person rather than his own imagination or memory._ _ _ _

____He should have known he wouldn't be able to stay away for long. Even if it means he has to apologise, when apologising is his least favourite thing in the world._ _ _ _

____Choosing to confront him at the grocery store, where Stiles will be forced to speak to him and won't be able to throw him out, is a calculated move on Derek's part. So is arriving fifteen minutes before the store officially closes, darting through the doors just as the security guard is cutting off new shoppers. He makes only the feeblest attempt at shopping, grabbing items from the first three aisles only, and hurries up to the checkouts._ _ _ _

____Stiles is the only one on duty, and Derek ignores the way his own heart jumps at seeing him to focus on Stiles' face. He looks… harried. And exhausted. He's scanning items for a man with a shopping cart that's literally overflowing, who's not only yelling obnoxiously into his phone while Stiles tries to serve him, but who is making no effort to help whatsoever._ _ _ _

____Derek twitches as he watches the scene drag on, alternately wondering what would happen if he punched this guy and why Stiles ever got into customer service in the first place._ _ _ _

____Finally, the obnoxious guy finishes up and drags his cart away, and Stiles slumps with visible relief._ _ _ _

____That relief is shattered when he looks up to serve the next person in line and sees it's Derek._ _ _ _

____"Of fucking course," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. But he forces himself to smile—to be honest it's more of a grimace—at Derek, and reaches over to scan his items._ _ _ _

____Derek lasts less than ten seconds before he has to say something. "I hate this," he bites out._ _ _ _

____Stiles looks up, a little vulnerable, before resolutely staring down at his hands._ _ _ _

____"I can't get my cereal anywhere but here," Derek continues. "It's very inconvenient."_ _ _ _

____Stiles snorts, but it looks fond, albeit reluctantly. "Just here for the cereal?"_ _ _ _

____"You know I'm not."_ _ _ _

____Stiles nods, running his fingers over and over the packet of Cheetos Derek threw into his basket at the last moment, before he asks, "So, you still angry at me? Even though our whole argument was redundant anyway because your sister would never listen to either of us try to tell her what to do or how to do it, because she's the most stubborn person we know?"_ _ _ _

____Derek shakes his head, and so does Stiles, and then they're saying, at almost exactly the same time, "My mom," and "Lydia."_ _ _ _

____"Cora."_ _ _ _

____"Allison."_ _ _ _

____"Erica."_ _ _ _

____"Scott."_ _ _ _

____"Really?" Derek asks, thinking back on what he's seen of him. "He doesn't seem so—"_ _ _ _

____"Cute but deadly, dude," Stiles says, shivering theatrically. He scans Derek's last item, pauses before dropping it in Derek's reusable bag, then seems to steel himself. "So do you actually wanna talk?" He asks. "I'm busy tonight, but… tomorrow?"_ _ _ _

____Derek feels so relieved it takes him a few moments to remember to answer. He's so fucking lucky Stiles' compassion runs deeper than he pretends it does. "Can't," he says ruefully._ _ _ _

____Stiles nods rapidly, looking down. "Oh."_ _ _ _

____"I'm going with Laura to get her TiMER removed."_ _ _ _

____Stiles' head flies up, his eyes wide. "Shit, she's actually doing it?"_ _ _ _

____"It's something I think she's wanted for a long time," Derek says, finally forcing himself to admit it. To admit that by ignoring her and glossing over her feelings, he's been the worst sibling in the world._ _ _ _

____"That's… awesome. I think." He shakes his head, then asks, intense, "What about you? What do you want?"_ _ _ _

____"Mainly to not be there when she tells our mom."_ _ _ _

____Stiles snorts. "Well that's a no brainer."_ _ _ _

____"And I want… To call you. If that's okay."_ _ _ _

____Stiles watches him for a few more moments. He nods, then smiles slightly, shy, just one side of his mouth turning up. It's really, really beautiful._ _ _ _

____"Okay," Derek says, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. "I'll call you."_ _ _ _

____And he knows he actually will, this time._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek pulls into Laura's driveway right as she's locking her front door._ _ _ _

____He gets out of the car. Leans against the door._ _ _ _

____She puts her keys away. Turns to face him._ _ _ _

____They stare at each other._ _ _ _

____He raises an eyebrow and inclines his head towards the car._ _ _ _

____She rolls her eyes and comes over to kiss him on the cheek._ _ _ _

____They both get in the car._ _ _ _

____Derek drives Laura to get her TiMER removed._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____They're almost at the mall when Laura puts a hand on Derek's wrist._ _ _ _

____He immediately pulls over, throwing the car into park and turning to face her._ _ _ _

____"I think you should…" She frowns, shakes her head. "We need to turn around."_ _ _ _

____"Changed your mind?" Derek asks softly._ _ _ _

____"No, I just wanna…" Laura sighs, frustrated. "Take me to mom's? She should know. You were right. I don't think I can do this without her knowing."_ _ _ _

____"We've still got time, it'll be fine. I think it's a good call," Derek assures her._ _ _ _

____"I don't," Laura says grimly, "but fuck it. Let's go warn mom I'm about to break her heart."_ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Their mom is working in the front garden when they arrive, doing something violent-looking to a plant. Peter's there too, lounging on the bench swing a few feet away from her, sipping pretentiously at a glass of iced tea._ _ _ _

____"His pinky finger is actually sticking out," Laura says, fascinated. "Why is he even here?"_ _ _ _

____Derek shrugs, sliding the Camaro into park in the long driveway. "Boredom?"_ _ _ _

____"Isn't he a CEO of something? How does he have time to be bored?" She stares out at the yard. "On the plus side, having this conversation outside means a quick getaway for us."_ _ _ _

____"Sure." He pauses. "Assuming we're ever getting out of the car?"_ _ _ _

____"Of course we are," Laura says. She doesn't move._ _ _ _

____Derek sighs and exits the car before Laura can stop him, moving around to open the passenger door._ _ _ _

____She glares up at him. "Thanks so much, sibling," she grits out._ _ _ _

____He smirks. "No problem, sibling."_ _ _ _

____Laura finally climbs out, straightens her shoulders, and marches over to their mom. Derek follows Laura more hesitantly. By the time he reaches the group, his mom is standing up and pulling off her gardening gloves._ _ _ _

____She wipes her hands on her apron, leans in to kiss them both on the cheek. "Hello darlings, what a surprise! It's good to see you, would you like some tea?"_ _ _ _

____"No. Thanks, but no," Laura says. She glances at Derek nervously. He nods, trying to seem much more confident and encouraging than he's actually feeling._ _ _ _

____Peter catches it, of course, because he catches everything. He tilts his head interestedly and puts down his glass. "Do you have something to share, Laura dear?"_ _ _ _

____Laura takes a deep breath. "Mom, I think you should sit down."_ _ _ _

____"A sentence well known as the harbinger of danger to any family, colour me intrigued," Pater says._ _ _ _

____Their mom rolls her eyes, but she perches herself next to Peter anyway. "You can just tell me, you know. What did Cora do?"_ _ _ _

____"No, this isn't about Cora, this is about—" She swallows, visibly steeling herself. "Mom, I'm getting my TiMER removed."_ _ _ _

____No-one else speaks. The sound of a neighbour's wind chime tinkles forebodingly._ _ _ _

____And then Peter starts laughing. "Oh Talia," he says delightedly, "your children really do light up my life! Although I'm still thankful I have none of my own, the negatives seem to far outweigh the—"_ _ _ _

____"Shut up, Peter," their mom snaps, though, and there's quiet again. "You're not joking," she continues flatly._ _ _ _

____"I'm not," Laura confirms._ _ _ _

____"I see." She sits back against the swing, crossing one leg over the other, then turns her gaze to Derek. "And you?"_ _ _ _

____Derek feels the panic rising, pinned under his mom's judgmental stare. "I, um. I don't know. I'm not sure."_ _ _ _

____"Eloquent as usual," Peter mutters._ _ _ _

____"Shut up, Peter," Laura hisses._ _ _ _

____Their mom turns her attention back to her. "And when is this removal supposed to happen?" She sounds very calm._ _ _ _

____It's definitely a trap._ _ _ _

____"Once we're done here," Laura tells her, the beginnings of defensiveness creeping into her tone._ _ _ _

____"I see." Their mom picks up Peter's half-full glass, rolls it carefully between her palms. "And were you ever going to tell me about this?"_ _ _ _

____"She's telling you now," Derek cuts in. It's the wrong thing to say. He knows that for sure when his mom turns her piercing gaze on him once more, leaving him feeling even more rattled._ _ _ _

____He needs to learn to just let Laura take the heat._ _ _ _

____"I can see that, Derek. I'm more interested in the timeline of events leading up to this visit. I think they say a lot about our relationship, and about the level of respect my children have for me. When was the decision made in regards to removal, and when did you decide to inform me about it?"_ _ _ _

____Laura makes a low sound of frustration in her throat. "Oh my god Mom, it's not like that! I just wanted to postpone the inevitable disowning, or whatever, okay? Can you blame me? But I'm here now, here begins the huge family rift, let's just fucking get on with it already!"_ _ _ _

____"Oh Laura, you can't imagine _this_ would be the cause of a rift! Not when your mother has such damning secrets of her own," Peter says casually, inspecting his nails._ _ _ _

____"Peter!" their mom barks, her untroubled veneer disappearing suddenly, her eyes widening and voice cracking. "That's enough!"_ _ _ _

____"Mom, what's he talking about?" Laura asks. She takes a step forward._ _ _ _

____Derek wants to grab her hand and yank her back._ _ _ _

____"Oops, did I say too much?" Peter drawls, looking delighted._ _ _ _

____"You're such a dick," Derek spits, clenching his fists, and he's probably directing his anger at the wrong family member right now but he can't help it. Out of everyone, Peter has always been the easiest to dislike._ _ _ _

____The rest of his family doesn't seem to want to show such restraint._ _ _ _

____Peter finally looks up, eyes glittering dangerously. "Now now Derek—"_ _ _ _

____"Peter don't you dare—" their mom tries._ _ _ _

____"—is that really the way you want to talk to the only person here who's genuinely Timed Out with their soulmate?"_ _ _ _

____"Fuck you, Peter!" their mom says viciously, springing up from the swing. "Fuck you and get the fuck out of my home!"_ _ _ _

____Derek flinches in shock at the level of vitriol in their mom's tone, barely holding back the urge to retreat, and Laura gapes, her eyes widening._ _ _ _

____Peter, however, doesn't react at all. He just watches benignly as their mom edges away from him, creating as much space between them as possible in the small yard, and then stands slowly. He smirks. "I'd be glad to. My work here is done, anyway. Give my regards to Cora." He treats them to a little finger-wave goodbye and saunters to his Audi parked in the street._ _ _ _

____No-one speaks again until his car disappears from sight._ _ _ _

____"Mom," Laura says stonily. "Explain."_ _ _ _

____Their mom turns her righteous indignation on Laura. "I don't think that's any of your—"_ _ _ _

____" _Mom_ ," Derek says, more pleadingly than he would have liked. He can't help it._ _ _ _

____She deflates. "I suppose it's time. But we're not doing it here." She reaches down to collect her gloves and secateurs. "Let's go inside, we don't need the neighbours—"_ _ _ _

____" _Now_ , mom."_ _ _ _

____"Alright!" their mom shouts, turning on her. "Here's the truth, _darling_ , since you so desperately want it—your father and I weren't soulmates! We never Timed Out together, we weren't meant to be together forever or have a happily ever after, _we were not soulmates_!"_ _ _ _

____Derek feels like he's been punched in the solar plexus. He states at his mom, not quite comprehending, because he must have heard wrong, right? His parents were— that doesn't make sense, they _had_ to be, they were so _happy_ together, they— "What?" he croaks._ _ _ _

____Their mom sighs, suddenly pale and exhausted, and the most vulnerable Derek has ever seen her. "We were drifting apart. That's why I wanted to get the TiMERs in the first place, so we would know for sure what we were. He got his implanted first, and it started the countdown straight away."_ _ _ _

____"So his soulmate was somebody else," Laura says dumbly._ _ _ _

____"We were keeping it secret and trying to figure out what to do, and then a few months later he passed away and then it was just… easier to let everyone think we Timed Out together."_ _ _ _

____"So you lied? You lied about being soulmates with our _dead father_?" Laura asks incredulously._ _ _ _

____Derek shakes his head, trying desperately to process everything he's hearing. "Did you even love each other? At all?"_ _ _ _

____"Of course we did! He was a good man, and we had a good life. We just weren't meant to be."_ _ _ _

____"But you were _happy_ ," Derek says, voice rising. "You were happy together, you had kids and a life, and you were good together. And for all these years you still made me feel like I was inadequate, like you and dad lived the dream, like I would never be happy until I Timed Out!"_ _ _ _

____"Because it could have been better between us!" she says desperately. "I wanted to encourage you to aim for more. That's what I want for you, I want better! I want the best! I want guaranteed happiness for my kids, is that so bad?"_ _ _ _

____"But _nothing_ is guaranteed! I have friends whose parents Timed Out together, one's mom died and one's dad was abusive! Soulmates don't guarantee a single fucking thing!"_ _ _ _

____And it's true, he realises. Soulmates really don't mean anything._ _ _ _

____"And what about your real soulmate?" Laura adds. "All this time, you never even met them? You never even had a TiMER? You're such a hypocrite, mom, what the _fuck_?"_ _ _ _

____Derek can't— He shakes his head, stumbling over a flowerbed, trampling his mom's gardenias, but he can't— he feels faint, both hot and cold at once, and the back of his neck is crawling. He can't believe this is happening, this isn't, it's not— "I've felt like a failure for the past ten years!" he blurts. "I've been— I _know_ you know what that's been like for me! You've seen me— how could you still—"_ _ _ _

____His mom's mouth drops open. "Derek, I—" She takes a few faltering steps forward._ _ _ _

____Derek flinches back. He can't even care about the hurt look that crosses his mom's face. He squeezes his eyes shut. "I have to go."_ _ _ _

____And then he's staggering away, ignoring the way Laura calls after him, ignoring his mom pleading with him to stay. He walks away, and he doesn't look back._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____There's only one person he really wants to see. It's probably a terrible idea._ _ _ _

____He catches a cab to Stiles' place anyway._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____When Stiles opens his apartment door, Derek is accosted by the sound of clinking glasses and excited voices and action movie explosions and he immediately knows this was definitely a mistake._ _ _ _

____"Derek," Stiles says, looking puzzled. He glances behind him, inside, before pulling the door over and coming out into the hall. "What's up?"_ _ _ _

____"I…" He takes a few steps back, forgetting how narrow the halls of Stiles' building are, and jerks as he collides with the wall behind him, his ass bouncing off the scuffed drywall. He coughs, thrown and feeling stupid for being thrown, and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away. "I'm not… You're…" He peers into Stiles' apartment. He can't see anything from here, but he can still hear people—chatter, laughter, his friends, doing friend-things, having fun with Stiles._ _ _ _

____He shouldn't have come._ _ _ _

____"You've got company," he says. "Sorry." He turns around, intent on getting away, but Stiles' fingers curl around his wrist before he can get far enough. Stiles steps closer, guiding Derek to look him in the eyes, one side of his mouth tilting up in a smile, gentle and soft._ _ _ _

____Derek can feel his already shaky resolve wavering. It's like he forgets what the real Stiles is like, in between seeing him, and only remembers the sharp, abrasive parts of him. It's probably unfair on his part, and it's not like Stiles doesn't want it that way, but this, right now… This is why Derek is here, despite having other people who, on paper, would be much better at helping him than Stiles._ _ _ _

____"C'mon dude, you're acting more like me than you right now, what's going on?" Stiles' hand slides up, fingertips brushing Derek's shoulder. Derek can't decide whether to push up into the warm touch or wrench himself away._ _ _ _

____"I don't know," Derek says, frowning. It's vague, but it's the truth—he has no fucking idea what's going on anymore. He has no fucking idea about anything._ _ _ _

____"Okay," Stiles says slowly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't know," Derek repeats, but as soon as he says it, he knows that's _definitely_ not the truth. He doesn't want to talk at all, he's sick of talk, he wants the opposite of talk. "No, I don't want to talk." Wrapping his hands around Stiles' hips and dragging forward, Stiles startled into going with the motion, Derek says, low, "I want you."_ _ _ _

____"Me as in sexy-times me," Stiles says slowly._ _ _ _

____"You as in I wanna fuck you," Derek agrees._ _ _ _

____Stiles pauses, leans back, takes a moment to survey Derek's face. "So this is you, Derek, of sound mind and body, mental and or physical capacities not compromised in any way, telling me, Stiles, that you wanna have sex."_ _ _ _

____"Please," Derek says. They both ignore the hint of plea in his tone. Derek is grateful for it._ _ _ _

____Stiles holds Derek's gaze for a few more seconds, assessing, and then he suddenly springs into action. He takes Derek's hand and drags him inside, stopping only briefly to shut the door behind them before continuing down the hall. There's another short pause in the living room, where Scott, Kira and Lydia are watching television, and all three of them look up simultaneously._ _ _ _

____Stiles gestures to the TV with his free hand. "Okay, so you guys might wanna turn the volume up because I'm going to go and have sex now."_ _ _ _

____"Hi Derek, bye Derek," Kira calls, and Derek manages a stunted wave before being yanked out of sight and into Stiles' room._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Once they're in Stiles' bedroom, Derek expects the frenetic energy to continue, expects clothes being ripped off and aggressive kisses and fucking that feels more like fighting, but that's not what he gets._ _ _ _

____He tries for it, he bites at Stiles' lips, grasps at Stiles' neck, but Stiles just carefully pulls him over to the bed, sits him down on the edge, and stands between his spread thighs. Stiles' palms lay flat over his shoulders, firm and grounding, and he forces them to take a moment. To breathe._ _ _ _

____Derek doesn't want to breathe. "What are we doing?" he asks, impatient. He sounds hoarse, desperate. It's embarrassing, definitely, but he doesn't care._ _ _ _

____"You're—" Stiles starts, but there's a sudden burst of laughter from the room next door, and he rolls his eyes, casting a glare at the wall adjoining bedroom to living room before looking back at Derek. "You're doing me a solid." His fingers inch up to Derek's collar, and he slips them underneath, his fingertips brushing over Derek's collarbone, over his vertebrae and up to his hairline. "I need to touch you for a minute, so I'm touching you. You got a problem with that?"_ _ _ _

____Derek frowns. "Not the touching itself, but the manner in which I'm being touched is—"_ _ _ _

____"Oh my god, could you just let me have this?" Stiles' voice raises higher at the end, louder, and everything goes goes quiet in the room next door, before there's giggling that borders on hysterical and even some fake sex moans. "Okay that's it," Stiles says, pulling away from Derek, which he hates more than he thought he would. "I'll be back, stay exactly where you are." He heads out of the room, jumps back in again as if to catch Derek in the act of something, then nods to himself when he sees Derek's still sitting there and finally leaves._ _ _ _

____Derek focuses on what's happening in the other room, concentrating on listening and breathing and nothing else in an attempt to clear his head. As he counts his breaths, the noise of the TV disappears, having either been turned off or muted. There's the sounds of feet on floorboards, a mixture of whining and demanding voices, too far away to make out clearly and getting further away all the time. Derek strains, but after that there's nothing for a few moments, until what sounds like the front door opening and closing, lights being turned off, Stiles' socked feet drawing closer. When he appears in the doorway to his bedroom, he's lost his plaid shirt and his pants, and Derek feels a little calmer._ _ _ _

____"What was that?" Derek asks. He's kind of asking Stiles' knees, because he's never really seen them before, not properly, not in the full, warm light of a bedroom. They're hairier than he'd realised, and skinnier. More delicate. It's ridiculous._ _ _ _

____Stiles shrugs, crosses his arms, leans against the corner edge of his built in robe. "I made them all go home."_ _ _ _

____"Why?"_ _ _ _

____"Because I don't feel like sharing you tonight."_ _ _ _

____"It's not like we're having an orgy, Stiles," Derek says._ _ _ _

____He shrugs again. "Doesn't matter."_ _ _ _

____Derek can't look away from him, can't decide which part of him he wants to look at most. His eyes, sparkling like the characters in the anime Cora pretends she doesn't still watch. His lips, because Derek knows what they feel like on his body. His hands, fingers splayed over round biceps and strong forearms.. Everything about him is beautiful, at this moment, and Derek wants it all._ _ _ _

____"Are you planning on coming over here?" he asks, quiet but intense. Every interaction he has with Stiles feels intense, for one reason or another. It's as energizing as it exhausting._ _ _ _

____Stiles tilts his head appraisingly. "Are you planning on taking off your clothes?"_ _ _ _

____"What if I wasn't?"_ _ _ _

____"Got a CMNM kink I don't know about?" Stiles smirks, but comes closer anyway, shucking off his t-shirt as he moves. He straddles Derek's lap. "I wouldn't mind."_ _ _ _

____"There are a lot of kinks _I_ don't know about," Derek says. It's hard not to wrap his arms around Stiles, to hold him and have him and be held and had in return. Derek leans back instead, planting his hands on the bed behind him. "Including that one. I don't even wanna know how _you_ know about them."_ _ _ _

____"The internet, Derek," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "It's a valuable resource for a lot of people. And their right hands. And their left hands, actually, if they can multitask as well as me." He grinds down teasingly. "As well as I did a few hours ago."_ _ _ _

____"Your dick isn't that big that you need two hands, Stiles. Especially not with the size of your hands."_ _ _ _

____"You know what they say about big hands." He grins, reaching around Derek to flip up the hem of Derek's henley. When Derek cooperates, rebalancing and lifting his arms up, Stiles pulls it off and tosses it on the floor. "Big gloves. Although I wasn't actually just referring to jerking off." Which is when he grabs Derek's right hand and guides it around and down into the back of his boxers, shifting up so Derek can feel his tacky, flexing hole._ _ _ _

____Derek slides his finger carefully inside Stiles. "I like this reference better."_ _ _ _

____"Yeah, you do," Stiles says, and kisses him._ _ _ _

____It doesn't take long at all to prepare Stiles for Derek's cock, and Derek is thankful for Past Stiles' horniness—not that Stiles ever seems not to be horny. He barely moves from Derek's lap as he undresses them, and Derek has no idea how he even gets their clothes off but then he's slipping a condom over Derek's dick, giving him a few extra strokes and sliding down onto him._ _ _ _

____Derek tries to be careful at first, because Stiles is a little wild when he's getting fucked and considering how loose he was to begin with, how much time he must have spent opening himself up earlier, _god_ , Derek doesn't want to hurt him. But Stiles is having none of it, and Derek is happy to give in to the feeling. To not think, to just let go and let himself be overcome with _Stiles_ , warm and tight around him, eager and radiant, grounding and _good_. This here, this time he spends with Stiles, it's the best thing about his life right now and he wants to give Stiles everything he has._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____It usually takes a while for Derek's dick to soften, even after coming, and Stiles decides he wants to spoon with Derek still inside him. He presses his back right up to Derek's chest and tangles their legs together, bringing Derek's arms tight around him and holding his hands. It's intimate, and it should be a beautiful post-coital moment, but their TiMERs keep clinking against each other and Derek just can't relax. Stiles picks up on it quickly enough, getting control of his breathing again and finally slipping off Derek, removing and discarding the condom and cleaning Derek up perfunctorily before laying back down. He squirms around and underneath Derek somehow, sideways, wrapping his arms around Derek's chest and holding him close._ _ _ _

____Derek just goes with it, enjoying their proximity and the brief moments of quiet. Stiles is going to want to talk soon. Stiles always wants to talk. Derek has to make the most of the come down while he still ca—_ _ _ _

____"Ready to talk about it?" Stiles asks, breath puffing against Derek's face, and Derek sighs._ _ _ _

____"You know me, I love talking, can't get enough of it."_ _ _ _

____"Derek," Stiles says, only half amused. He reaches up, runs a thumb over Derek's eyebrow. "You don't have to."_ _ _ _

____"My parents weren't soulmates." It bursts out of him, abrupt and harsh, and he can't even take it back. Everything is real, and everything is out there._ _ _ _

____Shit._ _ _ _

____Stiles freezes underneath him, then shuffles out and crawls back over Derek, collapsing on his chest and peering down into his face. "What? But I thought—"_ _ _ _

____"So did I. But my mom lied. She lied to everyone, even us, especially us, even though— And now, my whole life is a lie."_ _ _ _

____"Derek," Stiles says softly. "Your whole life is not a lie. Your TiMER is not your whole life, your TiMER is barely even a small part of your life."_ _ _ _

____"Yeah and this whole time I thought that was my fault! I thought I was… Laura always jokes about us being defective, and I think I… started to believe it."_ _ _ _

____"Fucking TiMERs," Stiles swears viciously. He throws himself up and out of the bed and starts pacing the length of his room. Derek lets him have the distance and rolls parallel to the headboard to watch him, because Stiles' rants tend to be epic and ridiculous and unintentionally hilarious all at once. "This is why I hate TiMER culture Derek," he starts, clutching as his hair, "this fucking belief that if something goes wrong then it's the person's fault, because the TiMER is infallible. Did you know that like twenty five percent of people with TiMERs never even find their soulmate? And of the other seventy five, at least fifteen percent divorce after five years? No, no one knows that. These are the fucking numbers they don't tell you because they don't align with the TiMER propaganda and they harm the bottom line. But the info is there, man, all you have to do is dig a little!" He careens around to face Derek, stepping closer so Derek can see his eyes, intense in the low glow of lamplight. "So yeah, maybe you are defective Derek, but not in the way you're thinking, and you're not the only one. You're defective because human beings are defective, we grow and regress and change and develop and there is no way that some stupid little watch can give us forever, it just can't!"_ _ _ _

____"So you believe," Derek says slowly, trying to work through the sheer volume of information Stiles just piled on him, "that soulmates aren't real?"_ _ _ _

____Stiles blinks. "What?"_ _ _ _

____"You said TiMERs don't work. So you think they're just, what, some sort of mass social experiment?"_ _ _ _

____"I never said that," Stiles says sharply. "My parents _were_ soulmates, I told you."_ _ _ _

____"I remember."_ _ _ _

____"I'm just saying—"_ _ _ _

____"You're saying TiMER culture is shit, and we shouldn't take any stock in it because terrible things still happen, but then you militantly defend your parents' TiMER experience and hold it as the ideal," Derek points out. "You can't just pick and choose what you wanna take from it, depending on whether it suits you or not."_ _ _ _

____Stiles stares at him, betrayed. "I'm trying to cheer you up, dude, what the hell!"_ _ _ _

____"You were using my personal experience as evidence to support your own heavily biased point of view. Which is not only unethical, but it's also really irresponsible, and it totally weakens your argument."_ _ _ _

____Stiles frowns. "Okay, I have no idea what just happened," he says slowly, lowering himself back down onto the end of bed. "But I'm not gonna lie, you're super hot when you argue with me."_ _ _ _

____"Well, that's the most important thing, then," Derek says dryly._ _ _ _

____Stiles pulls a face and flips Derek the bird, and Derek's eyes catch on his TiMER. Stiles notices his gaze and quickly lowers his hand, scooting around on the bed, drawing his knees to his chest and hooking his hands underneath them, wrists well out of sight._ _ _ _

____"You really are the least likely person I'd ever expect to have one," Derek says softly._ _ _ _

____Stiles shifts uncomfortably. He seems completely aware of the hypocrisy of it and maybe one day Derek will get an answer from him that makes sense, that follows the rest of what he knows about Stiles, but for now Stiles hedges, as usual. "Yeah well, I'm a mysterious dude, I got layers. What about you?" He stretches his legs out and nudges Derek with his toes. "Do you still want yours? Didn't you only have it for your mom anyway?"_ _ _ _

____"I think…" Derek frowns. "I think it started that way." Because that was just what Hales did. They turned eighteen, they got a TiMER, they found their soulmate, they were together for the rest of their lives. It was beautiful and romantic in his head for so many years, the life to strive for, and now… "Now, I don't know. I don't think I'm really in a place to decide anything," he says softly, finally looking down at his wrist, spinning his TiMER gently. "My mom did a stupid thing, and it wasn't malicious, but it is hypocritical. I have to figure out where I stand, I guess. If I get it removed, then that's it, forever. I need to be sure."_ _ _ _

____Stiles stays quiet, and Derek finally looks up to see him staring at him, expression impossibly soft. It makes something in Derek's gut clench dangerously._ _ _ _

____He ignores it._ _ _ _

____"What?" he asks._ _ _ _

____Stiles just looks at him some more, open and beautiful, and Derek has no idea what's happening, but then Stiles says, "You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime."_ _ _ _

____Derek stares back at him, getting to witness the cheeky smile form on Stiles' face right from scratch, from poker face to all-out grin, and rolls his eyes and launches himself at Stiles, digging his fingers into the arches of Stiles' feet that he only discovered were ticklish by accident._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek stays at Stiles' all night._ _ _ _

____It's something they've never done before, sharing a bed until morning. Derek thought he'd sleep like shit because Stiles moves so much in the day that it would surely translate to squirming at night, but somehow night-Stiles produces the exact opposite phenomena—he doesn't budge at all. When Derek wakes up to stumble to the toilet at 3am Stiles is in the exact same position he fell asleep in (albeit a stupid one, with one leg up against the wall and his arms at a complete different angle, stuffed under his pillow), and Derek's pretty sure he stays that way until his alarm goes off at 7am, waking both of them up. Derek tries to get him to stay in bed, but Stiles is adamant about not being late to work because his stupid boss, Harris, likes to make an example out of him._ _ _ _

____Stiles is in the shower now and he told Derek to go back to sleep, but both Derek and his dick really like the idea of wet Stiles so he heaves himself up and makes his second pilgrimage to the bathroom. Stiles didn't even bother closing the door, which is practically an engraved invitation. Derek creeps towards the shower, itching to yank the curtain open and scare the shit out of Stiles, eager to hear the falsetto shriek he'll no doubt earn._ _ _ _

____He's passing the sink when he sees it out of the corner of eye, and at first he dismisses it, because it makes no sense._ _ _ _

____And then he does a double take. And then he freezes._ _ _ _

____On the counter, next to the sports watch Stiles wears on his other wrist, even though most other guys his age just use their phones, is a TiMER._ _ _ _

____Hands shaking, Derek reaches out for it. "What the fuck?" he murmurs._ _ _ _

____Movement on the other side of the shower curtain ceases. "Derek?" Stiles asks, and Derek has lost his element of surprise but he can't quite bring himself to care because—he's holding a TiMER. Stiles' TiMER. It's definitely Stiles' TiMER, because the numbers match, because it's still counting down even though it's _not on his wrist_ or _connected to him like it should be_ and—_ _ _ _

____He rips the curtain open and sure enough, Stiles' TiMER wrist is, other than shampoo suds, completely bare._ _ _ _

____"What the fuck?" Derek yells, gripping Stiles' TiMER (except obviously it's not a real TiMER, it can't be, they're waterproof and you can't just put them on and and take them off whenever you feel like it because they're _part of you_ ) so hard in his fist he's pretty sure he feels it pop and break. "Stiles, fuck, _what the fuck_?"_ _ _ _

____Stiles eyes go wide, and his gaze careens from Derek to the sink and then back again. "Okay, Derek," he says calmly, holding his hands out placatingly, like he's Chris Pratt and Derek is a deadly velociraptor, which Derek only recognises because Stiles made him watch Jurassic Park, _fuck_. "This is not— I can explain—"_ _ _ _

____"Fine," Derek says, crossing his arms. "Explain."_ _ _ _

____Stiles squints. "Can I wash the shampoo out first? It's got a direct pathway to my eyeballs."_ _ _ _

____"No," Derek spits. "You get no favours from me, not after what I told you last night."_ _ _ _

____He cringes. "Right yeah cool. Okay. Um." He scrubs at his eyes, takes a breath. "I don't have a real TiMER."_ _ _ _

____" _Stiles_ —"_ _ _ _

____"I don't have a real TiMER," he hurried to continue, "because I don't… Because I didn't think I wanted one. I didn't think I needed one, or I was at a place in my life where I… so when Lydia asked me to wear the fake one as part of her research I agreed, and it wasn't a big deal. And then I met you, and TiMERs mean so much to you, and you take them so seriously I just didn't want to… And what difference does it make anyway? This just means I'm not gonna Time Out on you, isn't this better?" Stiles looks up at him, pleading, beseeching, shampoo slipping precariously onto his forehead. "Derek, you know this makes more sense, you said yourself like twenty times how weird it is that I have a TiMER."_ _ _ _

____"So why the hell didn't you just _tell me_? At any time, any time at all, but especially last night, when I was baring my soul to you, when I might have felt more comfortable about my own vulnerability if I'd received some in return?"_ _ _ _

____"Oh dude, do you realise how ridiculous that sounds? I don't _owe_ you some kind of emotion just because you finally decided to share your true feelings for like the first time ever. Besides, you were the one accusing me of using you to further my agenda or some shit, wouldn't making last night about me have been the same thing?"_ _ _ _

____"That's totally fucking different, and you know it. Last night, if you had just told me what was happening, like an adult, like a _person_ who maybe _cares_ about me, I probably wouldn't have even given a shit! Now I just— were you _ever_ going to tell me?"_ _ _ _

____"Derek, I'm sorry, we weren't— We weren't supposed to be so great. We were supposed to be fun, a distraction, but then you were just so… And I…" He slumps, swiping at his soapy eyes again. "None of this was supposed to happen."_ _ _ _

____"For someone who supposedly hates the idea of their life being mapped out for them, you have a very rigid way of looking at how your life's supposed to go," Derek says coldly._ _ _ _

____Stiles' eyes snap up to him, wide and sad, but he doesn't say anything._ _ _ _

____There's nothing left to say._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek barely even waits until the elevator doors close before he's calling Laura._ _ _ _

____She's probably sleeping, but considering everything that's happened he's not surprised when there are only two rings before she picks up._ _ _ _

____"Are you okay?" she asks immediately._ _ _ _

____He laughs, melodramatic and bitter, and it echoes around him. "Sure, why not. I'm always okay, right?"_ _ _ _

____"Derek, what happened? Where are you? I tried calling you like ten times. We need to talk about mom—"_ _ _ _

____"I _don't want to talk_ ," he grits out frustratedly. "I want to get my TiMER removed."_ _ _ _

____Laura's quiet for a moment. "Are you sure? Maybe you shouldn't be deciding right now—"_ _ _ _

____"I think now is the best time to decide. I think deciding now means that I'll get to do something that I want to do, instead of wasting time worrying about everyone else's' feelings, when they sure as hell don't seem to care about mine."_ _ _ _

____"...Okay," Laura says finally. "We'll do it together, we'll go today. I'll get dressed, you come and pick me up, and we'll go for a walk-in removal. Everything's gonna be fine, okay?"_ _ _ _

____Derek slumps against the mirrored wall, finally letting himself breathe. "Okay."_ _ _ _

____Laura sighs. "Okay."_ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____When Derek shows up at Laura's place an hour later he's too antsy to think about getting out of his car and going up to knock, doesn't want to stop long enough for this momentum he has going to wane any, so he pulls into her driveway, keeps the car idling and beeps instead. Laura hates it when people honk at her, and normally he wouldn't dream of doing it, but he's going with the adrenaline. Her burning hatred of car horns is barely a blip on his radar._ _ _ _

____Plus, he's pretty sure Laura will forgive him today._ _ _ _

____He beeps again, twice._ _ _ _

____Finally the front door opens and Laura appears, still struggling with the strap of her bag. She stalks towards the car, leaving the door open, and Derek is about to point out her error when Cora hurries out after her, followed by _Allison_ as well, who pulls the door shut behind her. By the time Laura untangles her purse Cora and Allison have caught up and they all get in the car together, Laura in shotgun and the other two in the back._ _ _ _

____Derek turns to stare at them._ _ _ _

____Laura rolls her eyes. "Allison's family runs the TiMER removal booth, remember?" she says, grabbing his chin and forcibly turning his face towards the front._ _ _ _

____"And it means you're getting in immediately instead of having to wait like three hours for a removal slot, so I'd be more grateful," Cora adds, slapping the back of his head._ _ _ _

____"Technically it'd probably only be one hour but she's right." He sees Allison shrug in the rearview mirror. "Sometimes being an Argent has its perks."_ _ _ _

____"I find that very hard to believe," Cora says._ _ _ _

____Laura snorts._ _ _ _

____Allison rolls her eyes._ _ _ _

____Derek throws the car into the drive and vows to ignore everything that isn't the road._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____The removal 'booth' is actually a small shop front, ironically tucked away next to the TiMER accessory outlet on the third level of Beacon Mall. The inside is sparsely decorated, with just enough room to fit half a dozen chairs in the waiting area. There's only one person waiting._ _ _ _

____Allison leads the way inside and up to the front counter. The receptionist looks up and waves, immediately scooching over to give Allison access to the computer. Allison thanks her and ducks behind the desk to click around on the mouse. "I'm scheduling you in right now. Do you have a preference as to who performs the removal?"_ _ _ _

____"Not an Argent," Laura blurts._ _ _ _

____"Smooth," Cora says._ _ _ _

____Allison grins. "I get it, don't worry. We're pretty scary."_ _ _ _

____Laura rolls her eyes. "I'm not _scared_. I just don't want future family dinners being even more awkward."_ _ _ _

____"Okay, so, just head on into Room Two and someone will be with you shortly." She rounds back over to them and pecks Cora on the cheek. "I'll be waiting outside."_ _ _ _

____Cora's cheeks redden and she gently pushes Allison away, glancing at Derek and Laura. Allison just laughs, sending them a little wave and leaving the shop._ _ _ _

____Derek turns to Laura. He takes her hand and squeezes it. "You ready?"_ _ _ _

____Laura squeezes back. "I've been ready for the last ten years." She still sounds so sure._ _ _ _

____Derek wishes he were too._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Laura insists on going first, and Derek gladly lets her. She all but dives into the removal chair in the middle of the room, kicking her legs up onto the extended seat and setting her wrist eagerly on the attached armrest. Derek and Cora crowd into the small room after her, edging in beside the chair. It all looks clean and sterile at least, and Derek is relieved. The removal 'clinic' he'd seen in college had been in some shady alley, in the back of an old tattoo parlour. The only reason Derek had even agreed to go inside was because he'd been so drunk, and even then he'd been judging everything. This place is like a day spa compared to that._ _ _ _

____It takes less than a minute for the removal technician to join them. She's entirely unfamiliar, casual yet professional in jeans and a navy polo shirt, her hair slicked back._ _ _ _

____"Hello," she says politely. "I believe we have two removals today?"_ _ _ _

____"Him and me," Laura says, jabbing her finger at Derek. "Today marks the first day of our true emancipation."_ _ _ _

____The technician looks unmoved. "Right, well if you give me a minute, I'll just prep my tools." She sits on the stool beside Laura's chair turns to the little steel workbench, pulling on gloves and screwing an attachment onto an intimidating gun-shaped device._ _ _ _

____"That… is big," Cora says, looking transfixed by the gun. She reaches over like she's gonna touch it, but Derek grabs her hands and forces them down._ _ _ _

____"Is there anything we need to know?" he asks, eying the gun himself._ _ _ _

____Maybe he should have insisted on going first._ _ _ _

____"Well, removal is more painful than implantation, and there'll be a noticeable scar, so as long as you're aware—"_ _ _ _

____"This thing has caused me more mental scarring than anything in the physical realm possibly could, trust me. Go for your life," Laura shoves her wrist closer, in the technician's face._ _ _ _

____"Well, here we go then." She lowers the gun down to Laura's wrist, glances up one last time, and presses a button._ _ _ _

____Laura jerks up, lets out a shriek, and then the shriek turns into a laugh and she raises her bare wrists in victory. "Fuck I'm amazing!" She moves closer, and Derek can see that the skin where the TiMER used to be is bloody and mottled-looking, and she has some intense tan lines. She doesn't seem to care about any of it. She turns to Derek, her face lit up in a way he hasn't seen for a very long time. "Derek, that was amazing!"_ _ _ _

____Derek can't help but smile back. "I'm glad."_ _ _ _

____And then the technician finishes wrangling Laura's wrist, puts a bandage on it, and turns to him. "Next?"_ _ _ _

____Derek freezes for a second. Cora inches closer, pressing himself up along his side in a silent show of support._ _ _ _

____Laura notices none of this, too busy launching herself out of the chair and dumping her dead TiMER into the trash. She holds her wrist up to her face, takes a selfie, then turns to grin at Derek some more. "C'mon bro, break the chains!" She squeezes in next to Cora, forcing Derek down and into the chair. "Our time is now!"_ _ _ _

____Derek steels himself. He stares at his TiMER._ _ _ _

____"And this is it, right?" He forces himself to look up at the technician. "I can't get another TiMER implanted?"_ _ _ _

____She shakes her head and recites in a monotone, "Once the device is removed it damages the sensory area irreparably, and your other wrist is your dominant hand and therefore unviable."_ _ _ _

____"Derek, come on, we got you," Laura says, patting him on the calf. "You can do it, you'll feel so much better, I promise."_ _ _ _

____Derek nods. He feels like it goes on for too long, and perhaps it does because Cora is looking increasingly concerned._ _ _ _

____"Derek, are you sure?" she asks, leaning in close. "You don't have to do this."_ _ _ _

____"He doesn't _have_ to, he _wants_ to, right Derek?" Laura looks at him expectantly, but when he doesn't answer, her smile dims. "Derek?"_ _ _ _

____"I…" Derek looks back at his TiMER. He wants to say yes, he wants to have already gone through with the removal and be walking out of here, bandage in place, feeling the freedom Laura feels, but…_ _ _ _

____"Derek?" Laura prods again, voice firm, expectant, and Derek cringes._ _ _ _

____"I'm not sure," he admits finally._ _ _ _

____"What the hell are you talking about, of course you are." Laura leans in close. "Don't freak out now, we're almost there! I did it already, remember, it doesn't even—"_ _ _ _

____"Laura, shut the fuck up," Cora says sharply, and Laura stops in shock, mouth snapping closed. "Derek is not you. This is his decision." She turns to him, prodding him in the chest with a bony finger. "It's _your_ decision, Derek. You have to do this for yourself. Not for mom, not for Laura, not for anyone but you."_ _ _ _

____Derek nods. He knows that, he knows… he knows he has to do this himself, by himself and _for_ himself._ _ _ _

____He opens his mouth to speak._ _ _ _

____And his TiMER beeps._ _ _ _

____Derek looks down. The digits on the interface flash once, twice. It beeps again._ _ _ _

____And then._ _ _ _

____Numbers appear. Numbers. On his TiMER. _Numbers_._ _ _ _

____His TiMER has… his TiMER has _activated_ , and—_ _ _ _

____And it reads ----d --h 27m 33s._ _ _ _

____Derek is going to meet his soulmate in just under half an hour._ _ _ _

____"Huh," the technician says._ _ _ _

____"Woah," Cora breathes._ _ _ _

____"Shit," Laura curses._ _ _ _

____Derek doesn't say anything at all. He just removes his arm from the table, stands up and walks out of the room._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____He doesn't know what to do. He knows it doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, because he'll find them anyway, and they'll find him, and he'll be with his soulmate no matter what because—_ _ _ _

____Fuck. He's finally getting a soulmate. Fuck. _Fuck_._ _ _ _

____What is he even going to do with a soulmate? Why did he ever even want one? Who decides that this random person is the one for him? Why would _anyone_ be the one for him? What about all the other people in his life he's connected with, what about Stiles—_ _ _ _

____What about _Stiles_._ _ _ _

____Derek drops down heavily onto the bench in the middle of the mall, surrounded by people he can barely even register. He has to tell Stiles. He has to call him and tell him that he has a soulmate, that he can't do whatever it is they've been doing anymore, that he'll miss Stiles so much but he has to be with his soulmate, has to—_ _ _ _

____Stiles doesn't pick up the phone._ _ _ _

____Derek tries three times, the countdown on his wrist getting lower and lower each time._ _ _ _

____But Stiles doesn't answer._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek needs to see him._ _ _ _

____He catches a cab to Stiles' apartment. There's traffic, more than he expected, and he forces himself not to look at his wrist, not even once. When the driver pulls up outside the building he doesn't bother to exchange pleasantries, just drops a fifty dollar note into the front and climbs out, totally focused on the building in front of him. Finally, he allows himself to look at his TiMER._ _ _ _

____\----d --h 05m 17s._ _ _ _

____Derek has no idea what he's even doing here._ _ _ _

____He goes inside anyway._ _ _ _

____He takes the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Stiles' room is further down the hall than he remembers, and he jogs down to his door, knocking frantically. There's nothing—no movement from inside the apartment._ _ _ _

____He checks again._ _ _ _

____\----d --h 02m 51s._ _ _ _

____Derek slumps against the wall. Trust Stiles to be uncooperative until the end. He's going to Time Out, right here in Stiles' building, and Stiles isn't even here._ _ _ _

____What if he ends up Timing Out with one of Stiles' neighbours? What if one of Stiles' friends comes to visit and finds Derek and then _they_ Time Out, what if it's _Scott_? And then Derek and Stiles will be linked forever, just not—_ _ _ _

____Not in the way Derek wants them to be._ _ _ _

____Shit. He really needs to leave _now_._ _ _ _

____His trip down the stairs feels slower than the way up, which makes no sense, but then again nothing feels right. Time is passing and with each second his dread is rising. It's not supposed to feel like this, he thinks as he bursts out of Stiles' building, into the street, trying to control his breathing. It's supposed to feel thrilling, phenomenal, like he'll finally be _complete_. Derek just feels like he's going to throw up._ _ _ _

____Oh god. Why didn't he get his TiMER removed like Laura, why did he do this to himself, why can't he just—_ _ _ _

____" _Derek_!"_ _ _ _

____He hears it like he's underwater, like his ears are clogged, like he's drowning in cotton wool._ _ _ _

____He turns._ _ _ _

____Standing a few feet away, panting like he's been running—like coming here was the most urgent, _important_ thing he had to do—is Stiles._ _ _ _

_____Stiles_._ _ _ _

____They stare at each other for less than a second._ _ _ _

____And then their TiMERs go off._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____It feels like it lasts longer than it does. In his head the alarms go on for hours, and all the while Derek holds Stiles' gaze and doesn't know how to feel._ _ _ _

____When they finally stop, silence filling the void between them, Derek has no idea what to do._ _ _ _

____"You weren't here," Derek says finally, inanely._ _ _ _

____"I was just at your place, my dad drove me, we—" Stiles cuts himself off and takes a faltering step forward. His hands twist together, over and over, and he never takes his eyes off Derek. "No-one was home and I thought I should try here because maybe we— I didn't want to get my hopes up but I wanted— Derek, I…"_ _ _ _

____And Derek can't help it. He looks at Stiles, looks at this person, _Stiles_ , who is his _soulmate_ , who he _Timed Out_ with, and feels a smile take over his face, until suddenly he's beaming so hard it's already starting to hurt. He opens his arms._ _ _ _

____"Oh my god, I'm so fucking glad it's you," Stiles says in a rush, then runs to Derek, throwing them together in a full-body hug._ _ _ _

____Derek wraps his arms around him tight, pulling him closer and closer with every exhale, just breathing him in. "Why… How?" he asks._ _ _ _

____Stiles pulls away enough to look him in the eyes. "I talked it over with my dad, and he told me some things about my mom. Apparently she was a sceptic too, and I never knew that, but after talking to him and thinking about it I just… I realised… There's more than one way to look at this stuff. I still don't believe we complete each other or whatever, because I belong to me and you belong to you, but I feel like… The times we do spend together, I feel more like me than any other time. And I feel like instead of looking at soulmates like certainty, we should look at it like potential. Maybe we won't be forever, but I… I love you, and that's important." He squeezes Derek's shoulders, looks at him with such vulnerability Derek feels something inside his chest clench. "Do you know what I mean?"_ _ _ _

____Derek pulls him in again, pressing his mouth to Stiles' over and over. Stiles starts laughing, and then Derek starts laughing, and they're standing together, hugging and kissing and laughing in the middle of the street._ _ _ _

____"Yeah," Derek says, holding him close. "I know what you mean."_ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____"We can't just… not tell her, right?" Stiles asks hopefully. His palm is warm and comforting in Derek's where it's been for the past hour, where it's stayed since they Timed Out together. "I mean, technically you guys are fighting, so if she didn't hear from you a while that wouldn't be too weird or anything."_ _ _ _

____Derek rolls his eyes, but it's so fond it might as well have been a kiss. "I have to tell her," he says gently._ _ _ _

____Stiles slumps._ _ _ _

____"But we don't have to do it person," Derek concedes, nudging him. "I'll call her."_ _ _ _

____"Really? Because I would definitely prefer to do it from somewhere where I'm out of range of both close combat _and_ projectile attacks."_ _ _ _

____"It's your fault, you know," he points out._ _ _ _

____Stiles scowls. "I know, okay! It was just so much fun teasing her when I thought we meant nothing to each other! I didn't know it was gonna come back and bit me in the ass."_ _ _ _

____"Hey, only I get to bite your ass," Derek says, dragging a thumb across his knuckles. "She'll get over it, I promise. And even if she doesn't, we'll figure it out."_ _ _ _

____"I know," Stiles says fiercely. "Believe me, that's the one thing I'm sure of."_ _ _ _

____And he says it with so much certainty, it has to be true._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

____Derek calls his mom._ _ _ _

____He tells his mom Stiles is his soul mate._ _ _ _

____His mom starts crying._ _ _ _

____Derek glances at Stiles. Stiles just shrugs, leans into Derek's shoulder and kisses him on the jaw. Derek presses his forehead against Stiles' temple, and they wait out his mom's tears together._ _ _ _

____It's the happiest Derek has felt in a long time._ _ _ _

____+_ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://hosio.tumblr.com/post/152303078033/this-years-sterek-big-bang-i-did-with-the)!


End file.
